I Dream Of The New Ranger
by The J.A.M. a.k.a. Numbuh i
Summary: A nightmare forces Dale into a vow of celibacy. No problem, except he's a newlywed...mature situations, but nothing explicit, I hope... Winner of an Acorn Award!
1. Authors Note

Additional information for this fanfic is available in my profile. I can't post it here because FFN will remove the links. 


	2. Trailer!

TONIGHT  


  
ON THE ABC WEEKEND SPECIAL SATURDAY MORNING MOVIE: 

  
  
  
  
  
"Marital Problems. They happen to the best of them." - The J.A.M. 

**_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
WALT DISNEY PICTURES PRESENTS / PRESENTA / APRESENTA_**

_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
            Dale and Foxglove had been married for five months now…_

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A NIGHTMARE…**

_             "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," _

**  
  
  
  
A MONSTER TOO FAMILIAR…**

_             The monster turned around, and all saw its face. _

             Its *horrible* face. 

**  
  
  
  
START A DODGING GAME… **

_             "Foxy! We overslept! We have to take the next shift in the rescue!!" _

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF WORK…**

_            "… Chip, we're sorry we've been slackin' off." _

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF ILLNESS…**

_             But wasn't that impossible? How could he have given in to human germs-?_

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF EXERCISE… **

_             It was interesting how much Foxglove managed to get done today.._

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF SABOTAGE… **

_             She heard something topple.  
             And slowly the room got brighter and brighter.  
             And then sulphur wasn't the only thing she was smelling._

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF SUSPICION… **

_             "That is, they have no motive that we know about, so there's the possibility that they're not telling us everything that's going on with them."_

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF PAIN…**

_             Oh no. No.  
             "But what? Did Dale-" He just couldn't bring himself to ask the question. It was so unlikely of Dale, and yet, when placed under the right circumstances, he was willing to *kill*, but then again, he would kill to *defend* her. Could another set of circumstances have happened that might have caused him to-to-  
             "----*hurt* you?"_

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF LIES… **

_             "Dale," said Chip, after a deep breath. "Are-are you okay?" For a long moment, Dale didn't answer. Slowly, he turned to the wall, put a tired paw on it, looked down, and replied,  
             "I-I'm-fine, Chip."  
             "Really?" asked the Detective.  
             "Yes."  
             "No problems at all?"   
             "No."  
             "You sure?"   
             "Yes."  
             "Are you hungry?"_

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF ANGST…**

_              "I can't believe that you're doing this to her," he growled.  
              "Oh? And do you think I *enjoy* making her suffer?"  
              "Dale, if you keep this up, she'll have legal grounds for a divorce."  
              "IKNOWTHAT!!" he chattered, bristling and stiffening his features while whirling to face him, flailing his paws about. "BUTYOUDIDN'TSEEWHATISAW!!!"  
              "What *did* you see?" A long moment passed.  
              "Something *horrible*…" _

             "Dale-" she sobbed, "Dale-I-I need you-" He, on the other paw, just turned again to look at his pathetic reflection in the mirror 

             She couldn't cry anymore. 

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF MYSTERY…**

_             "Chip, I know you'll probably bonk me for this, but as I was flyin' around, I ended up in-in East Staten Island Park." _

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF TEMPTATION…**

_              And she was a bat.  
              A *female* bat.  
              In the middle of *autumn*.  
              And while she may be married, as the ring around her thumbclaw proclaimed, that may not necessarily be enough to deter any male bat who might have questionable intentions. Why, any male bat could take one whiff from her from across the park and fly straight to her and grab her and begin to kiss her and-_

**  
  
  
  
FULL OF _FEAR_…**

_              There it was again.  
              That FACE.  
              That *HORRIBLE* FACE..  
              The pipistrell's fright increased ten-fold. She covered her muzzle with her wings in terror. There was no mistaking it now: _

**  
  
  
  
  
  
THE NIGHTMARE STRIKES…**

_             -and slammed Dale into the ground._

**  
  
  
  
  
  
AND ONLY _ONE_ CAN STOP IT…**

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
TRESS MACNEILLE**

_            "DON'T EXPLAIN, PLEASE."_

**COREY BURTON**

_             "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"_

**TRESS MACNEILLE**

_             "G-G-G-G-G-G-G-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-LY-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-TH-TH-TH-TH-A-A-A-A-N-N-K-K-K-K-S-S-S-S-S-S-N-N-N-O-O-O-O-O-E-E-E-E-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-G-G-U-E-E-E-E-E-E-S-S-S-TH-TH-TH-TH-I-I-I-I-I-S-S-S-S-S-W-W-W-W-W-O-O-O-O-R-R-R-R-K-K-K-K-S-S-S-S-S-T-T-T-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-W-W-W-W-W-W-E-E-E-E-E-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-?-?-?-?-?-!-!-!-!" _

**JIM CUMMINGS**

_            "WHAT!! 'E didn't BEAT ye, did 'e???!!!"_

**COREY BURTON**

_             "Aye aye!"_

**APRIL WINCHELL AS FOXGLOVE**

_            "AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!"_

**JAMES EARL JONES**

_             "**…………………WHY………DID………YOU…MAKE…ME…THIS…WAY?????!!!!!**"_

  
  
  
SPECIAL APPEARANCES BY 

**JIM CUMMINGS**

_            "Hey, look! Newcomers!!" _

**KATHLEEN HELPPIE-SHIPLEY**

_             "This is all your fault!!" _

**HENRY GIBSON**

_             "Planet? Why do you ask that? Why would this planet be any other?"_

**JO ANNE WORLEY**

_            "Horsing? What's a horse?" _

**ALAN OPPENHEIMER**

_            "Hey, you're the strangest creatures I've ever seen…"_

**BILL SCOTT**

_            "How did you get here? And what are you doing here?"_

**STAN FREBERG**

_            "Oh-oh. It looks like something is going to ruin everyone's perfect day."_

**  
  
  
ENVISION**

_             The conversation was suddenly interrupted by what sounded like a mix between a shriek and a chatter, only it was in the bass rage, and it had a volume level of about 100 decibels. _

**             STOMP**

**  
  
  
  
I DREAM OF THE NEW RANGER**

_**  
  
  
  
  
  
NEXT / NÄCHSTE / A CONTINUACION / A SEGUIR**_


	3. Eins

[...unWARP!!!]

Good evening.

VORWORT

This here is the continuation of the *second* ending of "Let's Suppose Chip And Dale Behaved Slightly Differently After The Kidnapping", based on Roy Neal Grissom's "Consummation". This story is not so morbid, nevertheless, it *is* once again filled with angst, rejection, and denial…

So much that I would probably *also* rate this PG-13…

*******

"Marital Problems. They happen to the best of them." — The J.A.M.

Tress MacNeille

Corey Burton

Tress MacNeille

Jim Cummings

Corey Burton

April Winchell as Foxglove

envision

I DREAM OF THE NEW RANGER

along with

James Earl Jones

and

Lisa Lougheed

special appearances by

Brian Cummings

Kathleen Helppie-Shipley

Henry Gibson

Jo Anne Worley

Alan Oppenheimer

Bill Scott

and Stan Freberg

Written by The J.A.M. (i_am_the_jam@hotmail.com) (but please call me J.A.M.)

Edited by Karl Schenk

* Once again, to our beloved "Enduring Man-Child", Roy Neal Grissom, without whom this story (and the two others) would have never existed. And, to the loving memory of Deborah Walley. *

*******

EINS   -  NIGHTMARES TO DREAM IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT…

                Dale and Foxglove were running side by side in an open field, obviously enjoying each other's company, from the way their tails were quivering. It was an odd looking field, for though it was beautiful, with its rolling hills and scattered trees and small cliffs, the colours seemed unusually bright. Upon closer inspection, it would seem that all the flowers that carpeted the lush grass had a strange assortment of colours and structures. What appeared to be normal dandelions were actually dandelions in the shape of rose blossoms. The trees, too, appeared to be a mix of oak with beech bark. Neither Dale nor Foxglove appeared to notice these details, possibly because they were too busy noticing one another. Paw in wing, they dashed to and fro carelessly, joyfully, playfully, like young cubs, without a care in the world. Their gazes were fixed on each other's eyes, into the innermost depths of each other's souls, souls that belonged to each other, united by an unbreakable covenant, as the rings in his digit and her thumbclaw proclaimed. Suddenly, the bat lady released her hold on her love and was now airborne, flying higher and higher above him. The sound of Dale's laughter resonated with passion inside her ears, and her laughter, too, was something that the chipmunk would never tire of hearing. The tamias continued to run as he suddenly recognised the game: the snatch dive. All he had to do was run as fast as he could before his pipistrell mate did a nosedive in an attempt to grab his shoulders with her foot-paws and snatch him off the ground. Simple enough, although sometimes Foxglove wondered if Dale "played to lose". He had become quicker as of late, and many times, she missed by just a quarter of a millimetre. On those occasions she would come around even more determined and snatch him up, up, and away, sometimes throwing him up into the air where he would then do several acrobatic spins before she came around to catch him again. This was, of course, the most fun and exciting game either of them could ever think of, especially since most of the time it would lead to bigger and better things. On this occasion, however, the verspetilionid did indeed snatch the sciurid off the ground. She immediately pulled up and threw him into the air again, where he did a quadruple summersault before beginning his descent. Foxglove decided to try something new this time and instead of grabbing him by the shoulders or letting him grab her foot-paws, she grabbed on to his quivering tail. With a very surprised "Yelp!" the rodent suddenly lost control of his momentum and flung his limbs awkwardly about. This caused his chiropterid mate to lose her balance as well, and they both tumbled to the ground.

                Not that they were high enough to cause any damage.

                Instead, as they did on the night they met, they somehow managed to embrace in mid-air, and they fell together with a mix of a giggle and an "oof". Before they could straighten up, they suddenly realised that they had fallen on the crest of a hill. While still embracing, they were now tumbling down the hill, out of control, and with each moment adding to their velocity. Neither of them appeared to mind, instead, they giggled more and more, and each had already made up their mind to do it again once they stopped. As they continued to tumble down the hill, they appeared to roll and bounce as a single ball of fur, albeit mixed with reddish-brown and dark brown, much the same way everything else around seemed to be a mix of some sort. There were no flashes of orange or yellow, however.

                Dale wouldn't be needing his shirt for a while, again.

                Finally, they tumbled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, which was beside a small pond. After their eyeballs stopped rolling, each moved their head back a bit so as to see/hear the other's face in its full glory. It did not matter that their fur was all out of place, or that blades of grass were now part of their scarce wardrobe; all that mattered was that they were with each other, here and now, joined by an everlasting love, by an everlasting covenant, and now, by what appeared to be an everlasting kiss.

                Their passionate kiss led to a passionate embrace, which, as was mentioned before, led to bigger and better—

                Dale's eyelids fluttered open.

                *Aw, nuts,* he thought to himself, realising that all the previous was just a dream, albeit a very interesting one. Reflex and experience kicked in, and he deliberately stopped himself from awaking fully, replaying in his memory the last scene in his dream in order to keep it going, lest he ruin it by having it restart in a different event, or even a different setting and story. Keeping his breathing slow, and his mental patterns simple (he had much practice on that last skill), his sleepy eyes turned to his wife, sleeping soundly next to him, with her wings wrapped fully around him, and her head on his chest, and her breaths making his fur tingle. He, too, had his arms snugly around her, as they both had plenty of practice embracing while manœuvring around her wing membranes. And it also seemed that the bat lady had managed to get the hang of sleeping horizontally. Now if only the chipmunk could learn how to sleep upside-down…

                Dale and Foxglove had been married for five months now. While at first, the sight of a married chipmunk and bat being was in itself quite rare, what was even more rare was the fact that they were married after a set of extremely adverse circumstances. At first, it had been Dale's tremendous shyness and the terror of thinking of never being either ready or worthy to handle a wife and family, accentuated by what he knew was immaturity on his part. Still, with help from the other Rangers, he finally managed to propose. Less than one hour before the wedding, unfortunately, Foxglove was kidnapped by Fat Cat, who attempted yet one more time to destroy the Rangers. Upon hearing the news of her capture, Dale fainted dead away and was immediately taken back to Headquarters while the rest set off to rescue Foxglove. When Dale awakened and was informed of what had happened, a fury overcame him such as he had never experienced before, and with friends and family as witnesses, he resolved to rescue Foxglove himself, with the option of killing the obese feline if it came to that. The other Rangers, meanwhile, had fallen into a trap, but when Dale arrived, along with several hundred bats; his attitude, as well as the felid's superstitious beliefs, saved the day. Normally that would have triggered a positive emotional response, but it was during the rescue that Dale suddenly came to a reckoning of *why* Fat Cat had kidnapped Foxglove, of *what* he was getting her into, of *who* he really was, and *why* the others had left him behind. Everyone knew why Fat Cat wanted Foxglove: to use her to destroy the Rangers. Dale realised that he was getting Foxglove into a life of permanent danger, and that was something he wouldn't allow. But it was the latter two reckonings that made him decide to not only cancel the wedding, but also to break off their relationship altogether.

                Because he was a Goof-up.

                A Klutz.

                A Clown.

                And a Comedian.

                It was the Comedian, not the Rescue Ranger, who had fainted on Foxglove. The Comedian's presence was detrimental to not only him and Foxglove, but also to the rest of the Rangers as well. His sudden reckoning made him see that every time something major was botched up during a case, it was practically always his fault, due to his constant lack of seriousness, his clowning around, his short attention span, and just plainly his happy-go-lucky personality. That night, Dale and Foxglove had a very morose discussion, filled with yells, tears, and desperation. He explained to her why he couldn't marry her, and why he wanted to let her go. She, however, refused to accept his reasons, as logical as they sounded. With a strength of will she never knew she had, she stopped Dale from kissing her good-bye, and presented *her* arguments as to why she should stay with him, and why she was *going* to stay with him, regardless of danger or clowning around. She would take the whole package, Goof-up, Klutz, Clown, and Comedian included, than leave him and the Rangers and find a new life in a bat colony, as he had suggested. This *new* reckoning, that here was a female who would accept him no matter what, and that she had suffered more than he would wish on his worst enemy, suffered to be *with* him, was enough to redirect his decision and follow through with the wedding.

                And that, to Dale's parents, was the ultimate miracle. It seemed that the entire Oakmont line, from time immemorial, had been under a curse, in which every generation of males had some sort of disaster befall their brides just before their wedding, and with every alternate generation the disaster was catastrophic enough to have the male lose his bride, one way or another. Dale's father, Pierre, had told him of how it happened to all the generations he could remember, and how *his* father had lost his first bride, and how *he himself* nearly lost Dalee, Dale's mother. Dale had inwardly scoffed at this theory when he had his eyes on Gadget, but when he fell in love with Foxglove, and experienced *true* love, the "curse" began to haunt him again. When the kidnapping took place, he knew that it was because of the curse. He would lose Foxglove, and his son's bride would have a disaster fall on *him*, and his grandson would lose his first bride one way or another. That had been another reason why he not only wanted to let Foxglove go, but also remain a bachelor for the rest of his days. He did not want anyone else to suffer that pain anymore, and the only way he could do that was to end the Oakmont line once and for all. Foxglove and he, however, fought the curse, and they had overcome. The batmaid refused to let him kiss her good-bye, refused to leave, and refused to let a vague chain of events decide her destiny. She would stay with her male, and whatever son they had, they would make sure that no disaster would fall upon him or *his* bride.

                The curse had been broken, hopefully, once and for all.

                It was difficult to say what would have happened if he *had* managed to kiss her good-bye…

                They both often shuddered when that line of thought came to mind. What *would* have happened if she had left? What would have become of her, Dale, and the Rescue Rangers? Would she be happy living in a bat colony? Would Dale have become a top-notch Detective and Ranger, now that he had fully realised what was harming the team? What would have become of the Goof-up, the Klutz, the Clown, and the Comedian? Would they have been suppressed and let out only in moments of relaxation? Or would they have been gone for good? What would have Dale been like if he had destroyed those facets of his personality?

                No one knew, and no one *wanted* to know. And everyone breathed with relief that no such turn of events ever happened. When Dale later told the rest what had happened and that he had been two seconds away from destroying 90% of his personality, everyone looked at him as if he had just attempted to murder someone. Monterey even made a very far-fetched theory, one he had mentioned to Dale before, that if he had indeed killed the Comedian in him, it would have been a matter of time before Dale himself physically *died*. Inwardly, Dale yet again scoffed at that theory. There was no way that by altering one's personality one could bring onto oneself a premature death. But it was during that talk that Dale explained why he wanted to reform himself. He explained that he had suddenly come to terms with the harm he had done to the Rangers, but along that discussion, suppressed emotions were brought forth. Feelings of insignificance and pain due to the others' rejection of his input, and even *fear* of his input, due to *their* fear of disaster whenever he was involved, were revealed. This brought even more tears, this time from the other Rangers, as they, too, were suddenly hit with the reckoning of how they had mistreated their friend and relegated him to the role of the Goof-up, Klutz, Clown, and Comedian, and not the Rescue Ranger he *really* wanted to be. Heartfelt apologies and requests of forgiveness followed that discussion, as well as round upon round of declarations of forgiveness and embraces.

                A cleansing had occurred, one that had been much needed for sometime, one that *had* to happen before a new chapter began with the Rescue Rangers.

                A new chapter not only with Foxglove and him, but also with Chip and Gadget. When the mousemaid was fully hit with the reckoning of how she had treated Dale, teasing mostly, she was so shocked by her own behaviour that she nearly collapsed right there. She, having suffered extreme emotional pain herself, had decided to do all she could to make sure others never felt the pain she did. So, when Dale told her about the incidents where he considered her actions hurtful, she felt as if yet another invention had gone haywire. But this, too, was resolved right there. And it was at that moment when she was finally freed of her own pain. With her own release, she felt as if her heart suddenly left her chest and rocketed over to the one who had made a particular declaration to Fat Cat on the night of the kidnapping: a declaration of sacrifice: his life for the others. The sudden idea of losing Chip, with no loopholes in any gypsy-generated prediction, made her realise what she had suppressed for a long time. After the Oakmont's wedding, Chip and Gadget began dating. The beginning was slow, as they both had still many barriers to bring down, but they were coming along nicely.

                While this was happening, the Oakmont's honeymoon was spent in Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, Mexico, and now, five months later, the couple had adjusted to their duties as Rangers, and to their duties to one another. With the beginning of autumn, however, it appeared that Foxglove was getting more and more active, matrimonially speaking, as she (and verified by an encyclopædia) had foretold.

                Not that Dale minded.

                In fact, today had been a particularly active day, and both were sound asleep due to their previous efforts, up to the point when Dale awakened from his dream. He sleepily wondered why he had a dream of that kind again. He used to have them at regular intervals (like any full-blooded male or female did), and they had stopped right before the honeymoon, since, logically, he didn't need to dream anymore, as he had the real thing right next to him now.

                "……Luceeeeeeeeeelle……" he mumbled.

                As he felt his consciousness fading away again, he hugged her tighter, eliciting a soft chirr on his part, which was answered by a loving ultrasonic shrill on hers. Maybe he'd get some ideas…

                Chipmunk and Bat Lady now laid flat on their backs, beside each other, quite fatigued, yet happy, as their exhausted tails showed. Panting heavily, with their tongues hanging out, they were gazing/echosounding at each other's eyes, with blissfully insane expressions. Neither could say a word. Not that they needed to at this point, of course. Paw in wing, they waited patiently for their brains to come back on-line. An indeterminate time later, the tamias sat up, and helped the pipistrell sit up. He gently kissed her thumbclaw, and she did the same to his thumb digit. He was about to suggest rolling down the hill again (and maybe falling into the lake), when something quite strange interrupted him.

                Out of nowhere, music began playing.

                It sounded a bit Latin, tropical even. Both looked/echosounded around to see where it was coming from, but there were no speakers of any kind anywhere. Also out of nowhere, a male voice began to sing:

                "*We're in the Land of Wuz, we're having tons of fun,

                'Cause every single thing is really two in one.

                A little bit of this, a little bit of that.

                And when you add it up, you get a lot of laughs!*" Both stood up at this point, extremely alarmed. And both were wondering if they had been too daring and involved with each other to notice if anyone was watching or hearing them in their private moments.

                "*Oo, they have originality.

                Living with a split personality!

                We're the Wuzzles!

                Oo yeah!

                We're the Wuzzles!

                Oh ho, yeah!

                Two times the fun, wrapped up and rolled into one—!*" Both began backing away from the lake, but they didn't seem to be able to get away from the music. Dale suddenly had the feeling of having heard this song before, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly where or when. The chorus repeated,

                "*Oo, they have originality.

                Living with a split personality!

                We're the Wuzzles!

                Oo yeah!

                We're the Wuzzles!

                Oh ho, yeah!

                Two times the fun, wrapped up and rolled—

                Into one!!*" The music ended, leaving the couple bewildered.

                "Cutie, what's a Wuzzle?"

                "Uhh, I was about to ask you the same thing. That, and 'what's the Land of Wuz?'" Yet another disembodied voice began speaking again, scaring them quite severely,

                "Welcome to the Land of Wuz. It looks like another perfect day for the Wuzzles, and it looks like they're going to meet new friends today."

                "Who said that?" asked the verspetilionid, completely dumbfounded, as it sounded to her that the voice was coming from all directions at once. The sciurid shouted at the air,

                "Hey!! Who are you?? Where is this place? Who are you talkin' about? What friends??"

                "DALE!!" He looked at his wife, and saw her staring/echosounding in fright at the distance. He turned in the direction she was looking/echosounding at, and saw—

                "Hey, look! Newcomers!!" At first, the rodent didn't know whether to grab his wife and run, have his wife grab *him* and fly away, or greet these creatures, because to him, they were most definitely aliens. The chiropterid padded up behind him and held him tight, using him for protection. The creatures noticed their ruffled fur and flattened ears, so they stopped their approach.

                "Oh, don't be afraid. We're quite peaceful. We were on our way to have a picnic and we saw you here," said one of them. At this point, the couple blushed like never before.

                "Uhhhh, you *saw* us?" asked Dale, incredibly bashfully. "H-h-h-how long did you know we were here?"

                "Well," replied one of the others, quite clearly a female, "we wouldn't have noticed you if you hadn't stood up." 

Foxglove padded a bit to the side and asked, also quite bashfully, "Y-you mean you didn't see or hear anything before that?" Another creature with a slightly goofy voice replied,

                "No. Should we have?" The couple sighed in relief, and their blushing subsided. "But what kind of Wuzzles are you? I don't remember seeing any of your kind around here."

                "Wuzzles? We're not Wuzzles," replied Dale, as his ears perked up again, wondering why this creature would call him a word he had never heard before. "And we were about to ask you the same question. Who and what are you guys?"

                "We're Wuzzles. I'm Bumblelion." The Rescue Ranger suddenly realised what he was looking at. It was clearly a lion with a purple mane, but his abdomen had thick alternating yellow and brown horizontal stripes across it, like a bee's, or a bumblebee's, abdomen. He also had a pair of antennæ coming out of his forehead, and small tufts of fur on each tip. On his back was a pair of insect wings, though by their small size the Comedian and his wife doubted if they provided any significant lift. "These are my friends, Eleroo—" Taller than the others, he was a grey kangaroo with an elephant's head and yellow hair on it, and also fitted with insect wings. And though he was a male, the bat lady wondered why he had a marsupial *pouch*, which was normally reserved for female marsupials. The pouch also had alternating light and dark purple bands. "Butterbear—" She was a yellow female bear with a white abdomen, with long antennæ, and flower-like structures at their tips, and with the largest set of colourful wings, in fact, they were clearly butterfly's wings, which enabled her to hover and fly accordingly. "Mooseal—" He was a male blue-grey seal with pink antlers, and also fitted with wings. He had grey hair and abdomen. His front flippers were more of a hoof-paw type, while his rear flippers remained strictly pinniped, and pink. "Rhinokey—" He was a male pink South American monkey, or he at least had the head, arms, torso, and tail of one, but he had a large horn on his nose, and his foot-paws looked more ungulate than simian. His hair was a light orange, and his horn, for some reason, alternated red and yellow horizontal stripes. He too, had insect wings. "And Hoppopotamus."

                "But just call me 'Hoppo', darling!" She was a blue-grey female hippopotamus with blue hair, *very* big and wide, and the only hints of her being another mix of species was her large blue cotton ball tail, her blue abdomen, her long ears, her buckteeth, long whiskers, and her wings. She seemed a trifle flirtatious, with the way she kept batting her eyelashes at Bumblelion, but he appeared to have his sights on Butterbear.

                And then Dale noticed another anomaly. He knew that butterflies and bumblebees were insects, and insects were very small creatures, smaller than bats and chipmunks. However, rabbits are a trifle bigger than bats and chipmunks, and monkeys and seals are even bigger than that, kangaroos are a trifle bigger, lions and bears are even bigger, moose, hippos, and rhinoceroses are bigger still, and the largest of all are the elephants—

                —and for some reason, he, Foxglove, Bumblelion, Butterbear, and Mooseal, were all the same size. It wasn't clear whether Rhinokey was taller because his hind legs were always bent and he was always hunched over, and Eleroo and Hoppo were only one-and-a-half heads above the rest. He glanced around a bit, trying to find something that would give him any kind of size reference, preferably a tree, to see if either Foxglove and he had been enlarged, or if the Wuzzles had shrunk themselves to speak to them eye-to-eye. But the nearest tree was too far away to make a definite comparison.

                "Hey, you're the strangest creatures I've ever seen, not counting Hoppo's family, of course." Rhinokey laughed at his own little joke, something that went against all of what Dale knew to be proper comedy.

                 "Strange? What do you mean by 'strange'? You should talk!"

                "Cutie, I think that given the circumstances, we look just as strange to them as they do to us." Foxglove said that after she had a sudden flashback of one of the myriad of Dale's movies. Her husband, too, suddenly remembered plenty of stories in which the main characters would visit a new land or planet, and the locals there would be incredibly strange, but then the locals would also label the newcomers as being incredibly strange. This prompted another line of thought in Dale's mind. If both groups thought that each other were incredibly strange, it was because they had never seen any of their kind before. And with the Wuzzles being in their home turf, that would mean—

                "Uh, what planet is this?" asked the tamias, suddenly apprehensive of the entire situation. Perhaps aliens, namely, Ditz and his friends, had kidnapped the couple. Perhaps they were dropped off on this planet, and had their most recent memories erased so they couldn't remember the trip. Or perhaps this was all just a weird dream.

                "Planet?" asked Eleroo. "Why do you ask that? Why would this planet be any other?"

                Oh dear.

                "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," whispered the rodent to his wife, low enough to have her hear him with her ultra-sensitive hearing.

                "Hey, are you saying you're from another planet?" asked Mooseal. "How did you get here? And what are you doing here?"

                "Yeah, are you on a mission?" asked Butterbear. For some reason, the pipistrell replied,

                "We're from Planet Earth. Three alien friends of ours told us this would be a great place to go on vacation, and so they took us here." Something was wrong. Dale did not have any recollection of speaking with Ditz or his friends about any vacation plans. Before he could reply with a "huh?" Foxglove continued, "We aren't on any mission, we were just—uh—" Here, the bat lady blushed tremendously again, "Kinda—um—horsing around." Odd, it was very unlike his wife to label their private moments in such an equine fashion. He was about to make a few comments himself but Hoppo interrupted him,

                "Horsing? What's a horse?" That was most definite proof that they were in another planet. But before either of them could begin to describe horses in general, the disembodied voice boomed out again,

                "Oh-oh. It looks like something is going to ruin everyone's perfect day." The couple turned and looked/echosounded all around, trying to find the speaker, but there was none in the area.

                "Who said that?" asked Dale.

                "Who said what?" asked Eleroo. The couple looked at the Wuzzles with unbelief.

                "What do you mean 'who said what'?" asked Foxglove. "That voice just now! The one who said, 'it looks like something is going to ruin everyone's perfect day'!"

                "Yeah, he even sounded like a narrator, or somethin'!" added Dale. "He was talkin' just before you got here, and he even said we were goin' to meet someone today! He's kinda narratin' all the events around here!"

                "And the voice seems to be coming from everywhere at once! I can't track its source!"

                "Track its source?" asked Rhinokey.

                "What are you talking about?" asked Bumblelion. "We didn't hear anywuzzle—" The conversation was suddenly interrupted by what sounded like a mix between a shriek and a chatter, only it was in the bass rage, and it had a volume level of about 100 decibels.

                "WHAT WUZ THAT????!!!!" yelled the Wuzzles, while the couple said "was" instead of "wuz", and they were too busy screaming themselves to notice the others' change in vocabulary, particularly Foxglove, who had to cover her ears due to the intensity of the sound. Ears fell flat and tails stiffened.

                STOMP

                The ground shook.

                *STOMP*

                And the lake beside them formed ripples accordingly.

                Dale's mind was in a flux. If they were on another planet, how did Godzilla follow them? Or, whoever was doing all the stomping was clearly ripping off the movie—

                **STOMP!!!**

                "Over at the town!!" roared-buzzed Bumblelion, while pointing at the direction of the stomping. All turned toward his indicated direction, and gasped. Neither Dale nor Foxglove knew they were near any town, much less any town near a coast. But what they did see was indeed a medium-sized seaport city, with buildings of bright colours.

                And it seemed that the seaport was being rampaged by something quite clearly out of one of Dale's movies.

                Except, of course, that Dale had never seen a monster such as this one. Even so, he wondered just why he had a nagging feeling of *having* seen this monster before.

                In the middle of the town stood a creature of some 100 metres in height. It almost looked like a chipmunk, or a ground squirrel, at least, for it had the hind legs and torso of such a rodent (only much larger and much more muscular), except that it was covered with reddish-brown fur. As the monster turned to crush some buildings on its left, they saw that it had a double white stripe on its back, and a black stripe in the middle, which extended from the neck to the tail. The tail had a thin translucent membrane connecting it to both legs, and when the monster raised its arms, they saw that it, too, had membranes attaching them to its torso and upper thighs.

                The membranes were so *bat-like*…

                Because instead of having normal chipmunk paws, the fingers were long and thin, with long claws extending from their tips.

                The monster turned around, and all saw its face.

                Its *horrible* face.

                Its ears were huge and triangular, like a bat's. Rodent incisors grew down from its short muzzle, but right beside them were long fangs as well.

                Its right eye was dark brown.

                And its left eye was blue-violet.

                "A Batmunk…" whispered Butterbear, but for some reason everyone heard her. The Batmunk continued stomping all over the city, destroying everything in its path. Foxglove could now hear the terrified screams of the residents.

                "Dale! That thing's destroying everything and killing everyone in the town!!" For some reason, the Batmunk turned and faced them. And it began walking in their direction.

                "Well, it 'wuz'," said Eleroo. "It's leaving the town now." And it only took five steps to leave the razed city behind. Suddenly calculating its new trajectory, Mooseal bellowed-barked,

                "AND IT'S HEADING THIS WAY!!!" At this point, everyone turned and ran/flew/hopped as fast as they could. Foxglove grabbed her husband by his shoulders and took off flying at a speed she never thought possible. After a few moments, Dale looked behind and saw that the Wuzzles had run/flown/hopped off in different directions, but the monster was quite clearly following *them*. Another shriek-chatter pierced the air. Suddenly, Butterbear flew past them, screaming,

                "This is all your fault!!" Quite shocked at this accusation, Dale's fur bristled as he countered,

                "What do you mean 'our fault'???!!! We just got here! We've never seen that thing before in our—"

                "**DAAAAAAAAADDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY……!!!!**"

                The booming voice seemed to come out from the pit of Hell itself.

                "Huh?" asked the verspetilionid.

                "**DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY……!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**"

                "Foxy, I think that thing's lookin' for its father!" deduced the sciurid. Looking back for a moment, the pipistrell decided to pick up more speed.

                "But why is it after *us*, then??!!" The tamias looked back, and saw that the Batmunk was now clearly running and flapping its wing-arms, and crushing everything in its path in the process. His membranes were causing enormous wind gusts all over the place as well, with near-hurricane force.

                And then, it began to fly.

                Dale felt all his blood leave his body. Despite its size, and a lack of efficient aerodynamics, this thing was now *airborne*.

                *And heading toward them.*

                "**DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY……!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**"

                The bat lady tried to ride a wind gust, when suddenly something hit them from behind, causing her to lose her grip on the chipmunk. He screamed, naturally, but before he realised he was falling, he was suddenly grabbed by something, BIG and COLD. Looking around himself, he suddenly realised that he was now in the paw-wing of the Batmunk. He glanced to and fro in desperation, trying to find his mate, but she was nowhere in sight. The Batmunk then brought Dale closer to its face, causing him to scream his lungs out again. The giant Wuzzle then cocked its head a bit, gave the most horrific frown Dale had ever seen, and its voice boomed,

                "**DADDY…………………WHY………DID………YOU…MAKE…ME…THIS…WAY?????!!!!!**"

                It was here when everything seemed to click. It was there, and yet it was not there. Along the features of the monster's face, Dale saw them. He saw his *own* features.

                Not to mention *Foxglove's*.

                They were there, but they were mixed so randomly and so haphazardly that Dale never knew that his and Foxglove's face could be combined to form something so hideous—

                This thing was THEIR child?

                Odd, he didn't remember Foxglove getting pregnant, especially because they were barely in their first year as a married couple, and much less pregnant with something so big.

                Unless, of course, someone got a hold of their DNA, combined it, altered it, and created this monster—

                Norton Nimnul!!

                Of course!! Nimnul MUST have been the one who created this thing! But, how did he send it to this planet? And why did this thing think *Dale* was the one at fault?

                Before he could explain this to his "cub", the Batmunk lifted its wing-paw as high as it could—

                —and slammed Dale into the ground.

                Dale's scream echoed throughout the land of Wuz, and all over his room as he suddenly hit the wooden floor beside his bed. In an instant, Foxglove was kneeling beside him, ears low, and holding him close.

                "Dale!!" she exclaimed. "Are you all right?" It took a few moments for the chipmunk to realise that he was surrounded by wood again. The scent of oak filled his nostrils; he began calming down, and his breathing slowed just enough to prevent him from hyperventilating. Then, the sweet night-misty scent of his bat wife filled his olfactory bulb, and it acted like a tranquilliser. He closed his eyes and focused on her scent, which was also mingled with his own. "Nightmare, Cute Stuff?" Dale had nightmares plenty of times before, but none were as scary as this one. He sat up a trifle, put his arms around her, and buried his muzzle in her stomach, as if he was seeking motherly protection. Her warm body soothed his throbbing left temple, and his ears and tail relaxed.

                Foxglove raised her ears, and for a moment, felt very mother-like. She was comforting and soothing someone who had just gone through a horrible experience. Then she realised that it was her *husband* she was dealing with, and for a moment she felt like giggling when he embraced her and pressed his muzzle against her abdomen. One moment after that, she snapped out of her lascivious thoughts and realised that this was not exactly a romantic moment. She wrapped her wings around him and held him close.

                "Honey, are you all right?" The chipmunk did not reply. Instead, he hugged her tighter, trying to slow down his breathing and heart rate. The feel of his wife's wing membranes around him, and not the monster's cold wing-paws, also had a soothing effect on him. The bat lady looked/echosounded down at him for a moment, and heard a rather large bump on his right temple, obviously caused by his fall from the bed. "Aww, Cute Stuff, did we have a bad nightmare and fall off the bed and make a big boo-boo on your head? Here, let me take care of it." She leaned down and kissed lightly the bump on the rodent's head. He sighed with relief, and the pain actually went down for a moment.

                "Uh, thanks, Foxy, I don't know what I'd do without you." He looked up at her, but was unable to focus on her beautiful face, due to the lack of light in their room. Hearing his eyes squinting, the chiropterid leaned back and turned on the lamp beside their bed.

                And when the light came on, Dale saw that horrible face looking down at him once more.

                He jumped back, screaming, laying his ears back and stiffening his tail, trying to get away from the monster, the horrible monster, the monster who was now wincing and trying to unstop her ears with her wingtips, the monster who had somehow shrunk to his size and was now currently in the shape of—

                His wife?

                Standing up, he shook himself, trying to return to the real world. The bump on his head made him dizzy for a moment, and he held his paw to his head.

                "Um, sorry, Foxy, I—um—the way the lamp made a shadow on your head made you look like somethin' I just dreamed about—ouch." His wife stood, laying back her ears again, a little surprised by that comment.

                "What? Are you saying I look like a monster?"

                "Uh, NO!! No, you *don't* look like a monster! It was the monster who looked like you—I mean—uh, it was a trick of the light—um—" He calmed down for a moment, as he took a good look at his beautiful wife. "Um, Foxy, I just had the weirdest and scariest nightmare. I—I—" Should he tell her what it was? Should he tell her that it had to do with their cub? "—I—can't remember it right now, but I think it had to do with either Godzilla, or a dragon, or both." He winced as he kept on rubbing his head. Foxglove put her wings on her hips and raised one eyebrow,

                "Well, now that's really strange. Why would you have a nightmare now? The last monster movie you saw was last week, and I think it had to do with a boat-eating shark, not a giant lizard." Then she raised her ears again, and her voice turned soft and sensual. "And I don't recall anything happening here that would have frightened you in the least bit, now did it?" Her tail swished. The tamias giggled nervously for a moment and mumbled,

                "Just round twelve—"

                "WHAT??!!"

                "I said it's just around twelve o'clock that I get nightmares, Foxy!" he recovered, still keeping his ears back. "And—and—I guess with all the re-arrangements we've done—well, I guess they miss me, and they came back with a vengeance. That, or Godzilla's finally catchin' up to me. I just hope I didn't break anythin' fallin' out of bed."

                "Well, now, we'd better make sure." The pipistrell padded forward a trifle and echosounded him from top to bottom. She knew that this was a serious matter, sort of, so she tried *very hard* not to focus on any one spot in particular, in order to make sure that he *really* didn't have any broken bones, or sprained joints. Nevertheless, it was precisely his echolocation profile that had caused her to fall heads-over-heels in love with him in the first place, so keeping her mind on the task at wing was not exactly easy. Still, she managed to scan him fully, and upon realising that there were indeed no broken bones or sprained joints, a naughty look crept on her face as she *continued* to echosound him. *Not* getting aroused by this was a near impossibility. His entire body was like the greatest song she had ever heard, and one she would not mind hearing over and over again. "No broken bones here," she said, still in her sensual manner, one that practically always made Dale melt. "So don't worry about your nightmares, Cute Stuff. If Godzilla comes back, and if he tries to hurt you, I'll destroy him by waking you up! And, to make sure you don't have nightmares again tonight, well, I know of a way to take our minds off—scary things—and put them on more—lovely things, maybe?" She padded up to him, ears perked up and tail in a blur, and took hold of his right paw. Bringing it up to her face, she placed a gentle kiss on his thumb digit, making Dale shiver pleasantly. Then, she placed her wings on his shoulders. Yup, it was autumn, and all the floodgates had been opened. Dale thought she was already satisfied for tonight, but obviously, his rude awakening had triggered everything all over again. He wondered how he was going to last the remaining three months…

                But it wasn't as if he was being put through any torture; after all, as her husband, he enjoyed everything as much as she did. He was a little tired, of course, but he could compensate. With an evil grin of his own, he hugged her and spun themselves around, so she was now facing the light. And he leaned over to kiss her—

                He released her and backed away. He had no idea why, but he had to back off. His fur bristled, his ears would not perk up, and his tail wouldn't relax.

                Foxglove noticed the sudden frightened look on his face. Was she pushing him too far?

                "What?" she asked. Dale wasn't sure what was happening, and he had to think of something very fast.

                "Ummm…nothin'—" He looked around, trying to figure out why he was trying to get away from her. He had to change the subject somehow. His experience with randomness kicked in as he looked at the watch on the wall.

                4:23

                "Uhhh, are you hungry?" She grinned even more evilly and giggled still more evilly,

                "He he he, you might say that, Cute Stuff!" Oh dear.

                "No, I mean, hungry for food! Insects!" The chiropterid looked/echosounded quizzically at her rodent mate, and stopped her advances.

                "Why?" Even more randomness kicked in.

                "Um—well—Foxy—you've looked a bit down lately?"

                "Down?!" she asked, quite incredulously, and lowering her ears momentarily. "Dale, I've never been happier or had so much fun in my life! What makes you think I've been feeling down?" 

                Think, think, think!!

                Dale looked down, and tried to appear ashamed, "Well, Foxy—um—you're a bat. Bats eat at night. They like eatin' insects and flyin' around. I know you've done that all your life, until we got married." He sighed, and sat on the bed. "Foxy, I know you love me and you've enjoyed the past five months, especially this one. I've enjoyed it too, but—but—"

                "What, Dale?" she asked, full of concern, stilling her tail, laying her ears back fully, and sitting beside him, wrapping a concerned wing around his shoulders. He unconsciously shifted away a bit.

                "Foxy, I feel like I'm takin' advantage of you. You've been here every night since we came back from Mexico, and—and—I feel like I'm keepin' you cooped up in this room, and it almost feels like I'm keepin' you in a cage!" The bat lady gasped. "Foxy, I can't stop you from bein' a bat, and—and—I really should have been more considerate of your needs. I've—been really selfish with you, havin' you here every night, instead of lettin' you go feed and fly like you normally do. Foxy, I'm so sorry…" The chipmunk turned away from her. Foxglove, meanwhile, could not believe her ears. Here she was, having the time of her life every single night, and *he* was being selfish?

                "Dale, *what* are you talking about? You haven't kept me cooped up in here! Dale, if I'm here every night it's because *I* want to. *I want* to be with you. It's really sweet of you to think of me like that, but you don't have to feel guilty about it! I'd gladly spend every night in here, as long as I'm with you! I don't mind at all! I don't miss flying and feeding one bit! And," she scooted closer to him and cooed, "do you know why?" Her ears perked up, and her sensual voice came back as she put her wings on his shoulders again. "Because I've found something better." She looked/echosounded deeply into his eyes. "I've found something that is much better than flying or feeding. Dale, flying is nothing compared to what we've shared. You, Dale, *you* make me fly higher than I ever could. We've flown together so high, Dale, and I never had to use my wings one bit."

                "Oh?" he asked, raising one eyebrow, and with a sensual tone himself.

                "Well, you know what I mean," she giggled. "But really, Dale, I don't feel cooped up in here. And it's not as if I don't fly or feed anymore. We've all adjusted, Dale, and this is the best arrangement ever. I love the way things are." She then grazed her wingtips on his chest. "And I know you love it too." Her voice was driving him crazy. He shivered at her touch, not out of pleasure, but out of fright. And as she turned to kiss him, he unconsciously moved back. She looked/echosounded at him quizzically again. Still his ears and tail were on the defensive. "I'm not wearing you out, am I?"

                "Um—no!" he replied, instinctively. He had, after all, a male image to uphold. "I enjoy it every bit as you do, it's just that—I'm concerned for you. I know that deep down you want to soar in the sky and eat every insect you can find." He then turned and held her wings, "Foxy, I really think you should go feed right now. I really, *really* don't mind at all. It's in your nature. It's somethin' you *have* to do." The pipistrell raised an eyebrow.

                "Dale, it's not as if I have this uncontrollable urge to fly and feed. After all, Monty keeps us well fed, doesn't he? And what about you? Aren't you supposed to be gathering acorns and preparing for hibernation?" If the tamias had his shirt on, he would be tugging at the collar.

                "Um—yeah—I guess so, but like you said, Monty keeps us well fed, and Gadget has the heatin' on all winter! But Foxy, it's more than just feedin'. I know you love to fly. Don't let me stop you from doin' what you love." Her naughty look came back and she replied,

                "Well, what I'd love right now is for us to—"

                "Foxy!" He was getting scared. And she *knew* he was getting scared. But scared of what? Her libido? He didn't complain one bit in the past month, not until tonight! She echosounded his face again. He sounded sincere enough. He really *did* want her to go feed.

                That, or he wanted her to leave.

                With half a smile, she said, "Okay, Dale, I'll go feeding tonight. But I don't want you to feel lonely." She suddenly hugged him very tight, and held his head so their noses were touching. "So, I'll make up for lost time *tomorrow* night, okay?" Before Dale could answer, she kissed him. Her kisses of this particular type would normally cause him to forget everything that was previously said and move on to bigger and better things, but instead of that, he began squirming, almost as if he didn't like being kissed. Foxglove released him and looked/echosounded at him, almost in shock, with her ears laid back. "Um, I guess I'll go now. See you in the morning, Cute Stuff." With that, she got up, and left the room, closing the door behind her, wondering what had come over her husband so suddenly. 

                The plan had worked. Dale flopped back on the bed, and sighed in relief.

                Relief?

                Though he was exhausted, he couldn't go back to sleep. What was going on? Why was he repelling her, after all they had enjoyed together? What did that dream mean? Why did he think her face was suddenly repulsive? Why couldn't he raise his ears anymore? Why couldn't he relax his tail? Why didn't he want her around anymore?

                And why was he dreading her return?

  
  
  
**************  
  


For those of you who aren't familiar with the Wuzzles, you can find more info at http://www.fortunecity.com/lavendar/elystan/392/index.html 

There are two basic designs for the characters. The one I'm basing the descriptions on is the TV series design. 

  



	4. Zwei

ZWEI  -  THE DODGING GAME: WORK

                Foxglove landed in front of the door, feeling quite energetic, as her ears and tail showed. She entered the tree house and made a beeline to her bedroom, ignoring Chip, who was on the couch and watching the morning news. Quietly, she entered her room, and when she saw/heard her husband asleep, yet another naughty look crept on her face. Locking the door, she echosounded her tamias once more. Ever since puberty, she had felt these urges during the fall season, but now that she had a husband, it seemed that this year all the previous urges came in a single bundle and landed on her like an anvil, all wanting to be released from their long-held denial. For a moment, she became scared, and almost ashamed, of the ideas that were currently running through her head. Always a shy one, she had suppressed these thoughts whenever they came, but now, they seemed to have a mind of their own, and would not be placated until they were put to action. The pipistrell wondered for a moment if *she* was being the selfish one, or even an immoral one, wanting to do with Dale whatever came to her mind, but then she saw/heard the ring on his digit.

                She looked/echosounded down and saw/heard the ring on *her* thumbclaw as well.

                Well, while the ideas were a trifle kinky by definition, they weren't immoral at all, because, after all, they were legally married. Something in the back of her head then made her realise something else:

                Her desires were natural.

                Her feelings were natural.

                And he was most certainly willing to help her, well, until last night, but the night was over.

                This was all perfectly moral.

                And perfectly legal as well.

                *……Luceeeeeeeeeelle……* she thought. Not wanting to waste any more time thinking about all this, she sneaked over to the bed, leaned down, and with a tremendously feather-light touch, began stroking his right ear with her wingtip.

                "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" was his response to that, as he had just dreamed that his mutant cub was about to bite his ear off.

                "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" was *her* response to his response. At more or less the same time, he sat up on the bed while she jumped back from the bed. Nearly hyperventilating, both looked/echosounded at each other. Dale held the sheets in a death-grip, covering his chest, and looking at her as if she were some kind of monster. Foxglove, on the other paw, was once again trying to unstop her ears, frightened by his unexpected response to her affections. Before anyone could begin to explain, there was a knock on their door.

                "Guys! I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have an emergency case! Come on!" They both heard Chip run down the hall toward Gadget's room. Almost relieved that they had this interruption, both decided that it would be best to discuss this incident later. The chiropterid left their room while the sciurid looked for his shirt.

                At Gadget's door, Chip knocked and chattered, "Gadget! We need both planes ready now! We have an emergency case!" Barely awake, Gadget left her room some two minutes later and began padding down the hall, promptly passed by Dale, Monterey, and Zipper. At the hangar, Chip handed her a note and told her, "Quick! Take this to the Rescue Aid Society! We're gonna need all the help we can get on this case!"

                "Golly, Chip, what's the case?" she asked, still a bit sleepily.

                "No time to explain now! Let's just say we're gonna do more rescuing than detective work! Let's go!" Grasping the seriousness of the situation, the mousemaid blinked away the remainder of her lethargy, boarded the Ranger Wing, and the others boarded the Ranger Plane. The hangar's new automatic door lifted out of the way, letting the sunlight inside. As they took off, and the hangar's door closed, Zipper sounded his bugle call, and they all yelled,

                "RESCUE RANGERS AWAY!!" As they left the park, Chip called out,

                "Gadget, go to the RAS! The note will explain everything! Hurry! Meet us at the north side of the city!" Pulling her goggles over her eyes, she replied,

                "Gotcha!" Both aircraft banked and headed in opposite directions, with Foxglove flying beside the Ranger Plane.

                "Now, what's the rush?" she asked. Chip explained,

                "Remember that case when the moles tried to bring down every single building in the city?"

                "Too roight!" replied the murid. "But didn't they fix all the foundations already?" Chip's grim expression intensified,

                "They thought they did. One building at the north side just collapsed. It was an old masonry building; no humans in it."

                "So if there are no humans involved, what's the emergency?" asked Zipper. Chip took a breath, and replied,

                "Under the building there was a mole colony." Everyone gasped and flattened their ears at this reply. The sciurid continued, "The collapse was mentioned in the news. They said that it happened a couple of hours ago. Since there were no humans inside I was going to ignore that, but right after Foxy came back this morning, a rabbit, a mole, and a badger arrived. The three were covered with dirt and they were bruised and cut all over. They had told me that they had escaped from the rubble and came to call us. After they explained everything I gave them the address of the nearest animal hospital, for their own injuries, and to bring ambulances to the site."

                "Oh no! I thought I heard a rumbling sound a couple of hours ago!" exclaimed the verspetilionid. "I thought it was thunder, but I didn't think much of it because I saw a few clouds up north and thought it was just a small storm!"

                "That's okay, Foxy," soothed her husband. "I know you were distracted with—other things. It's not your fault. Others must have heard the noise and rushed to help by now." Still, Dale couldn't help but feel guilty himself. Then again, neither would have known about this anyway if Foxglove had stayed inside.

                "There may already be other rescue teams, but we have to get all those moles out of there!" yelled Chip, trying to get as much speed out of the Ranger Plane as he could. Suddenly, Dale thought of something,

                "Waittaminute, why? If they're moles, can't they dig themselves out?" Chip's response was one well placed bonk. Foxglove was about to land on the plane and bonk Chip with both wings for doing that to her husband, but he explained,

                "Many of the moles are injured, AND they're surrounded by bedrock and masonry. According to the badger, no set of burrowing claws can get through except through one narrow passage, and since there are no humans there, the humans won't pick up the rubble for days! We need every single burrowing mammal around, and that's why I sent Gadget with the note to the RAS!" The pipistrell then said,

                "But Chip, I'm not a burrowing mammal! What can I do?" The tamias replied, while still keeping his eyes up front,

                "Find Otis. Find every single bat you can get, and bring them to the north side! We need sonar and super hearing to know where to dig! Meet us at the north side!!"

                "Okay! See you, Cutie!" With that, Foxglove banked and went to find Otis and the other bats. Meanwhile, the males continued to fly toward the downed building in total silence. That was until Chip quietly asked,

                "Dale?"

                "What?"

                "I'm thinking of asking Gadget to soundproof your room." The Comedian suddenly became nervous, as his sweat glands showed, along with his ears, and his speech pattern,

                "Uh…w-why?" The Detective's grim face relaxed slightly, and he sighed,

                "Let's just say that I got a rude wake-up call at four a.m. by a screaming chipmunk." The sweating tamias began to blush.

                "Oh. Uh…um…sorry about that, Chip. What happened was that—"

                "DON'T EXPLAIN, PLEASE," he interrupted, getting nervous himself, and with his face now expressing a bit of regret for bringing up this subject. "Dale, I don't want to embarrass you by having you go into detail. I know you two are newlyweds and it would be very rude of me to ask you to keep things quiet."

                "But Chip, that's not what—" Chip's eyes now showed just a hint of longing and loneliness, but he still kept his gaze ahead.

                "Look, Dale, I already feel awful by interrupting you this morning. I heard you scream again, in fact, I think the whole park did. You don't have to feel guilty. We all knew we'd have to make adjustments, and so we're gonna adjust a bit more." Dale opened his mouth and was about to explain what had happened, but then he hushed. Since this *was* between him and Foxglove, maybe they should keep it that way, for now.

                "Dale?" asked his best friend again.

                "Yes?" The Detective was silent for a moment, and then said,

                "I—I just want you to know that—that I—feel a little—jealous of you—of you both." The Comedian blinked and raised an eyebrow as he turned to ask,

                "Jealous? Why on earth for?"

                "Well, like I told you before, you found the love of your life, and you are now together—forever. It's—it's just that sometimes I wonder if—if—if I will ever experience what you two have." Dale's ears relaxed and he put one arm on his friend's shoulder,

                "Aw, don't feel that way, Chip! I know you will have that, too! Gadget will soon see what a great guy you are!" Chip sighed once more, raised his ears, and then smiled at his lifelong friend.

                "Thanks, Dale." Monterey and Zipper, who had been hearing all of this, decided to add their own opinion.

                "Too roight! I'm sure Gadget will come around soon enough!"

                "Just be patient, Chip! It will happen to you as well!" Then, Monterey tapped Dale's shoulder. The sciurid turned around, and saw that both the murid and the muscid were winking at him and had one thumbpaw/thumb-appendage up, not to mention they had that you're-certainly-proving-yourself-as-a-male-to-your-wife look on their faces. Dale blushed and turned around again. His own image as a male wasn't exactly what he hoped it would be, not since last night, anyway.

                Ten minutes later, they arrived at the scene. Before them was a huge pile of grey stony rubble surrounded by a wide expanse of grass dotted with a few trees. Littered upon the rubble were several rabbits, moles, badgers, and ground squirrels. The Rangers jumped off the Ranger Plane and ran/flew to where a distraught rabbit was standing, surveying the whole scene before him. Chip saw his face and drooped ears, and asked,

                "You had friends in there?"

                "Plenty," replied the lagomorph, still looking at the rubble.

                "What's the situation, mate?" asked murid. The leporid sighed and began explaining,

                "It's not good. Those stupid moles decided to use the basement of the building as a base of some sort, when it only had one entry through the bedrock, which is sealed off now. Then they began digging under the basement, down to the bedrock, to make more room. A while back, some crazy moles messed with the foundations and the building nearly collapsed right there and then, but they got some sense knocked into them and they repaired them. They thought they had the foundations all nice and stable again, but I guess that an engineering error and the earlier damage was just too much. Now, several galleries, three, I think, may have collapsed under the basement." The Ranger's faces became as grim as the rabbit's now, and their ears were just as low, too.

                "Have any burrowers got here?" asked Dale, wondering how they were going to rescue everyone.

                "You can see that there are some badgers and ground squirrels above, trying to reach them from the top, but there are too few." The fly piped up, and patted the rabbit's shoulder,

                "Don't you worry! More burrowers are on the way, as well as echolocators! We'll get everyone out!"

                "Where is the main entry?" asked the Detective, looking around for a moment. The rabbit's ears straightened somewhat as he replied,

                "The *only* entry from above ground is behind the building, inside a tree. The tunnel goes straight down for a bit and then levels off, and there's no light. But it'll take *days* to reach the main gallery, not to mention the ones below it!"

                "Then we'd better start working now!" said Chip. "Monty, Zipper, stay here and wait for Gadget and Foxglove, and see if you can help the others above ground! We three will begin digging right away!"

                "Roight! Reminds me o' the time I was trapped inside one o' King Solomon's mines…" The mus' tale faded as he ran toward the rubble, with the musca following him.

                "Interesting friend you have there," commented the oryctolagus, as he began hopping toward the tree. The tamii dropped to all fours and joined in the sprint.

                "Don't mind Monty," said Dale. "He's been in plenty of sticky situations before, and he pulled himself out from them. I'm sure he can help us with this! Uh, by the way, what's your name?"

                "Noel. And thanks for the help." The three then arrived at what appeared to be a normal sycamore tree, with a large hole near the base. They padded inside and dove into a well concealed hole on the ground, running as quickly as they could, first in a steep slope that went some ten metres down, and then sharply turning into a horizontal tunnel, until they reached a huge slab of masonry. "I think the tunnel extends some two feet after this before you reach the actual basement," panted Noel. "We'll need a jackhammer to break through!" Chip pulled out his penlight and examined the slab. It seemed smooth and polished. He tapped it, and it sounded quite solid. He turned to the other rodent,

                "Dale, I guess we'll have to dig around it."

                "Dig??!! We're surrounded by bedrock!" exclaimed Noel, gesturing all around himself. Chip looked around, flashing his penlight all around the tunnel, and explained,

                "But do you know how close the actual bedrock is to all the loose dirt here? Maybe it would be better if we got all the dirt out to see how much actual bedrock we have in this tunnel. But we have to start digging somewhere. Come on!" The three then began digging around the slab.

                Above ground, Monterey was helping a badger move several slabs aside, trying to reach the basement. After both hauled over what used to be a wooden door, the badger sat down, exhausted,

                "That's one. Four more stories to go. I just hope my friends can hold out until I get there."

                "Well, mate, ye ain't workin' alone. Zipper 'ere can move through the cracks 'n tell us exactly where t' dig, roight, Zip?"

                "Aye aye!" he buzzed. The carnivore sighed, drooping his ears,

                "But even with all of us working non-stop, it will take forever to get to the basement! Will they be alive when we reach them?" The large rodent sat next to him, and patted his arm,

                "Doncha worry, mate. 'Elp is on the way. 'N lots of it. We Rescue Rangers 'ave sent word out t' the four winds, 'n 'elp will *come* from the four winds! Now let's git crackin'!" The mustelid perked up his ears again. With renewed strength, both continued digging wherever Zipper signalled them to.

                Thirty minutes later, Gadget arrived with the Ranger Wing. At the same time also arrived a large number of moles, badgers, rabbits, bloodhounds, a few anteaters, and even a pangolin, all wearing the RAS armband. She spotted Monterey on top of the rubble, so she hovered the Ranger Wing just above him.

                "Monty!" she called out, and he looked up at her.

                "Gadget luv! I see ye brought the cavalry!" he replied. The mousemaid gestured all around,

                "All the muscle the RAS could offer, and a few more! Where are Chip and Dale?"

                "They're inside the main tunnel, tryin' t' get through! Go inside that tree 'n you'll find them!"

                "Got it!" Gadget flew the Ranger Wing toward the tree Monterey had pointed at, and landed beside the entrance. Then she pulled out a rather large bundle from the back of the Wing, and hauled it inside the tunnel. Inside, Chip, Dale, and Noel were in the process of pulling the slab down to a horizontal position. They did, but behind the slab was yet another one, only bigger. Noel lopped his ears and cried in desperation,

                "We're not getting anywhere with this!" The chipmunks also sighed and drooped their ears and tails as well. Chip then said,

                "Look, Noel, I know this all seems overwhelming, but we sent out for help. Others will come and help everyone out! Others will—"

                "Chip!!" All three looked behind them and smelled/heard Gadget approaching. She then stepped in front of the penlight, which Chip had placed on the ground.

                "Gadget! You're here! Did you get the message to the RAS?" he asked, exhaustedly.

                "Even better! Once I learned what had happened, I let the RAS get their teams together and bring them here. Meanwhile, I went back to Headquarters to get this!" Gadget then put down her heavy bundle. It looked like a large flat-blade screwdriver with a motor where its grip should have been. Chip immediately identified it with a human machine, but Dale was just a trifle slow to identify it on the spot,

                "Hey, neat-o! Uh, what is it?"

                "It's my new battery powered pneumatic jackhammer with a self-contained compressor. I would have made it *hydraulic*, but I was pressed for time. Sorry I'm late." Noel was more than just a trifle surprised. He partially raised one ear and asked,

                "What? You mean you built that thing from scratch in less than an hour?" The mus tilted her head a bit and pondered,

                "Well, if you're referring to the actual assembly process, yes, it took me some twenty minutes to put together but that's only because I was working like crazy to put it together because it was an emergency but if you're referring to the whole creation process then it took me about a month to first come up with the idea and then writing down the blueprints which of course took a while since I was working on some other stuff for a while though I wasn't pressed for time as I was just now so what I did was take what I had already written down and begin the assembly and making a few modifications on the fly because as I said before I didn't have the time to make it hydraulic and then there's the problem that I couldn't test it out yet but seeing that I already had the idea written down and that all the main problems were worked out before today then it should work with no prob—"

                The tamii gasped and stiffened their ears and tails.

                "Oh, my name is Gadget. What's yours?" she asked, extending her paw. 

                "Noel," replied the oryctolagus, a trifle confused, but still extending a dirty paw out to her. The mus didn't mind, since she was used to being dirty and greasy. Dale then came up to her, still with his ears and tails stiff,

                "Um, Gadget, I know you always know what you're doin', but—um—lives are at stake. Are you *sure* this thin' will work with no problems?"

                "Yes," she replied, quite sure of herself.

                "And no anomalies, either?" asked Chip, also with stiff features. The murid thought a bit, and replied,

                "Well, I can't guarantee that. I did try to use the best parts I could find, and the batteries are new, so any chance of anomalies should be kept to a minimum." Chip knew it was a big gamble. But wasn't she also taking a big gamble by just dating him? Weren't they *both* taking a big gamble? He took a deep breath, and said,

                "Okay, Gadget. I know we can trust your abilities, especially on emergencies." He kept in mind all the inventions that *did* work the first time around, including the tank she made when she fought against Bubbles. Maybe extreme situations brought out the best in her—

                "How does it work?" asked Dale. Gadget pulled her goggles over her eyes, and with a bit of an effort, lifted the hammer to a horizontal position and pressed it against the slab. She was a bit unsteady with the bulkiness of the hammer, so Chip and Dale flanked her and held it steady for her.

                "Oh, thanks guys, I didn't think we would have to operate it in this position, but I guess it's too late to modify it now. Now, here's the power switch," she nodded to the right handle, "and the speed throttle is on the left handle. Dale, turn it on." The sciurid was about to say, "Okay, 'I love you, jackhammer'," but he realised that while it would have caused confusion on Gadget, Chip would then have bonked him, and it was likely that they would have dropped the jackhammer, with the possibility of damaging it and maybe even hurting Gadget, and lives were at stake, so for once, he decided to keep the Comedian down. After all, this was an emergency.

                Everyone closed their eyes, and Dale turned on the jackhammer.

                And it seemed that the viscera of the three rodents turned to jelly.

                It also seemed to Gadget that the whole world around them had turned into one big blur, as her eyes vibrated with incredible speed. She had underestimated the power of the jackhammer, that, or she had underestimated the strength needed to hold it steady, especially in a horizontal position. All three rodents grabbed the rogue machine with all their strength and planted their foot-paws on the slab under them as firmly as they could, but the jackhammer had a life of its own.

                Right before it fell out of their paws, the mousemaid felt two huge paws close over hers, and felt fur on her back. She looked up, and saw the rabbit behind her, eyes closed, adding more stability to the rogue machine.

                "G-G-G-G-G-G-G-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-LY-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-TH-TH-TH-TH-A-A-A-A-N-N-K-K-K-K-S-S-S-S-S-S-N-N-N-O-O-O-O-O-E-E-E-E-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-G-G-U-E-E-E-E-E-E-S-S-S-TH-TH-TH-TH-I-I-I-I-I-S-S-S-S-S-W-W-W-W-W-O-O-O-O-R-R-R-R-K-K-K-K-S-S-S-S-S-T-T-T-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-W-W-W-W-W-W-E-E-E-E-E-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-?-?-?-?-?-!-!-!-!" she yelled-stuttered.

                "Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-O-O-O-U-U-U-U-U'-R-R-R-E-E-E-T-T-T-T-T-E-E-E-E-E-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-I-I-I-I-I-N-N-N-N-N-N-G-G-G-G-G-G-U-U-U-U-U-U-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!" yelled-stuttered the males back at her. And all had their ears laid back because of the noise. After about a minute of this, no one could stand it anymore, and Dale automatically turned the jackhammer off. Shakily, the four put the machine down, and tried to flex their limbs in order to bring some feeling back into them. Then they began unstopping their ears. The mus pulled her goggles up, and then shook her head. She then saw the others also shaking their heads, and that caused her to suddenly stiffen,

                "Shoot. I *knew* I forgot something!"

                "WHAT?!" yelled Dale, still with ringing ears.

                "Earplugs!!" she yelled back. Chip had already recovered a bit to understand what Gadget had just said. His sharp mind came up with a quick solution. He yelled, trying to hear his own suggestion over the ringing in his ears,

                "Wait, we *do* have earplugs! And we have the right material for a custom fit for all of us!"

                "We do?" asked the murid, with the ringing in her ears going down now.

                "Of course! Dale! How much bubble gum do you have?" It took ten seconds for Dale to decipher what Chip had asked him.

                "What? Oh, bubble gum! Hey, I have plenty of it!" He searched in his pockets and pulled out a small stick of a human-size chewing gum. The four took small pieces of it, chewed them for a moment, and carefully inserted the gum in their ears. Quickly, they took their positions again, and Gadget looked at Dale. She nodded two times, and emphasised the third nod. The tamias understood his cue and activated the jackhammer one more time.

                Above ground, Monterey and the RAS members were still trying to dig out the moles as quickly as they could. It was when he paused to remove some sweat out of his eyes that he looked up and saw a large flock of birds approaching. As they came closer, he saw that they weren't birds, but bats. Foxglove heard Monterey, swooped down, and landed in front of him, gasping.

                "Huff-puff-sorry I'm late, Monty, it's just that I had a hard time finding Otis and then getting all the bats to wake up—" The mouse patted the bat lady's shoulders,

                "Now, now, luv, I know ye did yer best. Now that all the 'elp is 'ere, 'elp the others by findin' the moles under all this rubbish!" The pipistrell perked up,

                "You got it!" She then flew above the rubble, hovered, and called out, "Excuse me, can everyone stop for a moment and be quiet?" Other bats joined in and also asked for silence, which quickly settled over the rubble. Foxglove continued, "We need to hear where the moles are exactly, and try to hear the quickest route to them!" All the mammals present stopped digging, and the bats began to echosound the entire structure. That was until they heard a low rumble underground.

                "What's that?" asked one bat. Monterey explained,

                "Sounds like one o' Gadget's inventions, I think I saw 'er brin' one alon' jus' now. Will some fellas go in the tunnel 'n tell 'er to keep it down for a moment?" Several badgers decided to do so, and went into the tunnel. A minute later, the rumbling stopped. With silence as their ally, the bats echosounded the entire structure again. And it was only the bats' ultra-sensitive hearing that heard the muffled cries for help. Immediately, the chiropterids began giving directions of where to dig, and how to dig, in order to avoid further collapses. The rumbling in the tunnel continued when the rescue resumed above ground.

                The digging continued throughout the entire day. Above ground, every animal was hauling away as much rubble as they possibly could. Inside the tunnel, badgers and ground squirrels, who were able to handle the jackhammer more steadily, eventually relieved Chip, Dale, Gadget, and Noel. Rubble and dirt was hauled out of the tunnel non-stop, and eventually the basement was reached. With the tunnel enlarged, the rescue teams were able to remove more rubble and approach the trapped moles, badgers, and rabbits. But it wasn't until midday when their efforts were rewarded. 

                Within the rubble now, Chip, Dale, and a ground squirrel lifted a door to find an unconscious dust-covered mole, breathing in a distressingly shallow manner.

                "He's alive!" exclaimed Chip. Cheers shot out from the tunnel, and when the news reached above ground, the rest gave cheers as well, and all received their second wind. Carefully, Chip and Dale pulled the mole into a stretcher, and several rabbits hauled him out. But as with any rescue operation of this kind, not all discoveries meant good news. Right under the mole they had just rescued, Chip and Dale found another one.

                And he wasn't breathing.

                "The first mole fell on top of this one, trying to shield him from falling debris," deduced the Detective, surveying the whole scene. "But the gallery they were in also collapsed. The second mole fell between two slabs that crushed him, but the first one would have been crushed as well if the second one hadn't filled the gap first. Ironic, isn't it?" The Comedian, looking at the peaceful mole, began to cry,

                "He couldn't save his friend, and instead, his friend ended up savin' him—" Dale suddenly sat down and began sobbing almost uncontrollably, but as soon as he started, Chip moved in front of him and grabbed his shirt,

                "Dale!! We can't stop to mourn yet! Others may still be alive, so we have to keep working! Please, get a grip on yourself and help us!!" Dale looked into Chip's eyes. Odd, they weren't filled with anger, just frustration.

                And he was crying as well.

                Dale took a shivering breath and wiped his eyes, "I'm—I'm sorry, Chip. I'll—I'll—try to save it for later. You—you're right. Let's get to work." Again, Chip felt terrible by asking his emotional friend to keep his emotions in check. But it was either that, or lose precious time, and time was something they didn't have much of at this point. With sad sighs, the tamii pulled the dead mole out from between the rubble, covered its face with a nearby rag, and continued digging. The others would eventually take out the corpse.

                Dale didn't know how many times he shed tears when he found a dead mole, rabbit, or badger. He didn't want to know. All he and the others could do was say a quick "I'm sorry", and continue digging, because maybe the next victim was still alive. The rescue continued all day long, and by nightfall, the RAS sent another team to relieve the first. As the sun slid down the western horizon, the Rescue Rangers were sitting next to their aircraft, and their surroundings were littered with dead batteries, half-eaten acorns, bubble gum wrappers, and two worn-down screwdriver heads. The Rangers were, as was the first RAS rescue team, completely fatigued. Ears and tails were low all around. Gadget looked at one worn-down screwdriver head, and said,

                "If I had used one with a titanium or diamond head, the drilling process would have been 20% more efficient. We could have reached the basement faster—"

                "Now, now, Gadget luv, don't go blamin' yerself for any of this tragedy. This whole troop brought out the bess' o' themselves, includin' ye."

                "That's right, Gadget," added Chip, softly patting her sore shoulder. "And the RAS mechanics replaced the heads as soon as they wore down. It was all one huge and well-organised rescue done with perfect teamwork." He raised one eyebrow. "Or are you amazed that you're not the only mechanic in town?"

                "Yeah, Gadget! You've got competition!" exclaimed Dale. Chip bristled and scowled at him, and growled,

                "Dale, if I wasn't so tired, I would bonk you." Turning back to the mousemaid, he continued, "But really, Gadget, it's good that we're letting others help us, especially in situations like this. Everyone, including you, did their best, and made sure the others did their best. Foxy and her friends helped us dig them out by pinpointing their location!" Foxglove put one wing around Gadget,

                "And—and—AHEM!!!!" Echosounding all day long, in the daytime, with dust all over the air, took out a lot from one's vocal chords, especially ones as delicate as Foxglove's. She continued, with her voice a trifle raspy, "And even if your jackhammer was twice as slow, we made the most efficient use of it—AHEM!!—instead of having everyone dig wherever they wanted—COUGH!!"

                "And the head wasn't the only thing that wore down," said Zipper, while nodding toward their right. All turned, and saw an RAS hospital tent. Outside, a gerbil was attending one of the rescue badgermaids by binding up her bloody digits one by one. Upon closer inspection, the badgermaid's claws had practically disappeared. And other badgers, moles, and other burrowing mammals were being treated similarly. Foxglove echosounded at her husband's paws, which were also blistered and bandaged, and with near non-existent claws. This was all part of being a Rescue Ranger. Monterey then turned to Gadget,

                "We gave it all we could, includin' all our strength. But we're not the only rescue team aroun'. Now's time to let others continue where we left off. Come on, luv, let's go 'ome." Slowly, sorely, the Rangers boarded their aircraft, and left the scene. They would go back for Gadget's jackhammer tomorrow, now that the other mechanics knew how to replace the head and batteries. All flew home in silence, and as they did, Chip pondered on when Dale held back that joke earlier.

                It seemed that Dale *had* been getting more serious lately, that he knew more and more when the Comedian would make problems should he be unleashed. Ever since that profound talk everyone had the night of the kidnapping, Dale had resolved to keep the Comedian in check. With more control over his personality, it also seemed that he had now acquired a sense of insight, thoughtfulness, and foresight that he didn't have before. Or, that he did have, actually. Spending plenty of time in front of the television and reading comic books made him notice a pattern in some of the stories he saw and read. Lately, it seemed that he could figure out the ending on some shows he saw, or at least, figure out what the character would do next. Now he had brought that talent to everyday life, and it was this foresight that brought him to keep the Comedian in check in this particular situation. However, it wasn't as much an increase in seriousness as it was a shift. During that talk on the night of the kidnapping, he brought out the option of getting rid of the Comedian for good, *killing* him. And again, Monterey advised him against it, that killing a part of one's personality, especially such a large part, would inevitably bring about physical death. Dale took this advice, and so, with plenty of practice, learned that there was indeed a time for comedy and a time for seriousness. He was now learning to balance the two, and to basically "archive" the Comedian until a more convenient time allowed him to be brought forth. The Comedian didn't need to die; he just needed to be put in the right time and place. So, Dale decided to archive this little joke and save it for a better time, which would also lead to Chip bonking him at a better time, say, when he needed to vent some frustration. Still, he couldn't help but smile at his own private joke.

                Chip, too, with his own keen insight, had expected Dale to try to say something funny/stupid at this time and place. He was quite surprised, naturally, when he saw him open his mouth and about to say it and then suddenly close it again, but still with a smile nonetheless. The Detective wasn't sure if he should feel relieved that the Comedian didn't say something that would have caused problems in this life-and-death situation, or guilty because he knew that his best friend was repressing an integral part of his personality, for the benefit of all involved. But he knew that with the wedding, major changes would be coming along, and this was one of them. Still, he was glad that Dale smiled, glad that Dale still had his sense of humour in full strength despite the circumstances, and glad that Dale would always find comedy even in the middle of demanding seriousness. It was one thing that he would always admire in Dale: finding the lighter side of dire situations, a talent *he* didn't have. Maybe his own imposing seriousness was what held back Gadget and him from getting together the way Dale and Foxglove got together. Maybe he should learn to relax a bit more and not always be so logical. He would ask Dale later what he was about to say just now, and maybe everyone would have a good laugh. After all, a perfectly timed joke or wordplay was something everyone could enjoy.

                The Comedian was still alive and well. 

                But it wasn't easy, especially after seeing death all around them all day long. By now they had reached the tree house, and Gadget noticed the grim expression on Chip's face.

                "Chip?" she asked him, as they entered. The chipmunk turned to look at the most beautiful mousemaid in the world, and sighed. "Chip, what's wrong?" He sat down on the couch, and lowered his head,

                "Gadget, we couldn't rescue them all. I don't know how many dead ones we found, but it must have been hundreds! Did we really act quickly enough?" Monterey sat down beside him, and patted his sore back,

                "Mate, it's not yer fault, nor anyone's. I know ye pulled out plenty o' live ones as well. 'N ye can bet yore life they're thankful t' us for that. The whole mess would 'ave been worse if ye 'adn't acted as quick as ye did." The mousemaid smiled,

                "Monty's right. Thanks for the wake-up call." With that, the murid hugged her sciurid friend, who was becoming more than a friend each day now. Dale, on the chair, then decided to add,

                "Chip, I more than anyone know all about random accidents, and believe me, this accident could have been much more worse than it was. It could have been rainin' or snowin', there could have been humans in the buildin'—it could have been worse—I know—I—————————————know————" He lowered his head as well.

                "Aw, Cutie," cooed Foxglove, sitting on the armrest and wrapping her wings around him. Dale was too exhausted to react. Chip didn't notice that, so he summed up the matter,

                "Guys, you're right. We all did our best. I'm proud of everyone, of all of us. Now, let's get some rest." Slowly, the Rangers retreated to their rooms, too exhausted to shower off all the dirt and sweat. As Dale and Foxglove padded inside their room, the bat lady wondered if maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late for some affection time. Seeing how her chipmunk was after seeing death too many times today, however, gave her second thoughts about that. So, she wasn't too disappointed when she heard Dale remove his shirt, flop on the bed, and pull the covers over himself. His last thoughts were "relief, at long last, relief", and he wasn't necessarily referring to all the work they did today. He involuntarily shivered when he felt Foxglove slide beside him and wrap her wings around him again. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, too, had calmed her down, for tonight, at least.

                "Tomorrow, Cutie, tomorrow, I'll make it all up to you. I love you, Dale…" And with that, she slipped into slumber land.

                Dale was burrowing as fast as he could, but his sore muscles made him feel like molasses, his blistered paws stung like never before, and the tunnel he was making was getting more and more rocky, until he finally reached solid rock. There was no way out.

                "**DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY……!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**"

                Oh, shoot, he forgot, the Batmunk, being part bat, could hear him very well and pinpoint his location, and being part chipmunk, also made it part burrower—

                His last thoughts were interrupted by the sudden blinding daylight that shone in his eyes as all the dirt and rocks exploded away from him, being tossed away by the wing-paws of the Batmunk. 

                And this time, the Batmunk didn't bother to ask why it was the way it was. Balling one wing-paw, it pulled it back, and smashed Dale into the bedrock—

                Dale gasped and snapped his eyes open, but he didn't jump or fall off. He was too sore. Luckily, Foxglove was just as tired as he was, so she was still asleep. The sciurid took deep breaths, trying to calm down, trying to relax his ears, tail, and bristled fur, and trying to bring back the much-needed drowsiness to his exhausted body.

                It was long in coming.

                This would be a *long* night.

                The Rangers woke up late the next day, well rested, but terribly sore. Foxglove groggily opened her eyes, and turned to look/echosound at her husband again. Not two seconds after she began, she coughed slightly. This was certainly a strange turn of events—

                She was hoarse.

                Oh well, perhaps this would be a good opportunity to rely more on scent, sight, and touch, and basically explore different facets of their love life—

                *……Luceeeeeeeeeelle……*

                Dale was already awake, but he didn't dare move. One, because he knew he was terribly sore, and two, because he knew his wife would wake up with more romantic feelings, despite yesterday's exhaustion. Well, maybe, just maybe, she *might* be as sore as he was and perhaps dismiss any romantic thoughts at this point, after all, everyone was very dirty and sweaty and—

                His wife kissed his furry lips.

                With a cacophonic "GAAAH!!!!" he jumped away from her and nearly fell off the bed again. This time, the pipistrell was a trifle angry as well as shocked and frustrated, but before she could bristle and demand an explanation, the tamias' brain came up with another random plan to avoid this,

                "Foxy! We overslept! We have to take the next shift in the rescue!!" Once more, for one brief instant, the chiropterid felt guilty again, for thinking of herself first, and putting her Rescue Ranger status on hold. The chipmunk, meanwhile, tried to get dressed as fast as he could, but every single sore muscle in his body slowed him down. Groaning, he put on his shirt, and said, "Hurry, Foxy! Those moles and rabbits and badgers need us!!" The bat lady was torn. She knew she was needed elsewhere, and that lives were at stake, but her own need was also demanding attention. Then again, she knew that she would face circumstances like this. She knew that as a Rescue Ranger, she would have to set her priorities, and adjust her married life accordingly. But again, she knew that this didn't exactly happen every day. *And* that being newlyweds, Chip would be more than happy to let them off for the weekend tomorrow, maybe…

                Dale ran to the living room where everyone was slowly eating breakfast.

                "Guys, what are you all doin' here!? We have to relieve the night shift and get back to rescuin' those moles and rabbits and badgers!!" The others looked at Dale a trifle quizzically for a moment. Then Gadget asked,

                "Golly, Dale, you don't have to get all hyper with this! The RAS told me that they were going to send out a third shift today!"

                "But don't they need all they help they can get? And we *are* the Rescue Rangers, aren't we? We *have* to continue with the rescue!!" Foxglove padded behind him and said,

                "Now, now, Cutie, other rescue teams got there last night, even before we left. The news must have already spread to all of New England; so many other teams must have arrived already. And we all need to rest a bit more." Before she could give him a suggestive smile, Chip said,

                "Well, Foxy, you're right, but Dale does have a point. We *are* the Rescue Rangers! We just can't put this behind us just yet!"

                "Not to mention that I have to check on my jackhammer," added Gadget. "Golly, they must be in terrible need of replacement parts!" The mousemaid suddenly bolted to her workshop and began packing the appropriate items, that is, as fast as her sore body would allow. Meanwhile, the bat lady nearly scowled.

                "Too roight! No sore muss'ls e'er got the bess' o' Monterey Jack!"

                "Rescue Rangers away!" hollered Dale, while grabbing his wife by her wing and dragging her to the hangar.

                "But what about breakfast?" she asked, getting more and more riled and bristled.

                "I'll make it up to ye, lass! We've got rescuin' t' do!" replied Monty, as everyone boarded both aircraft. Moments later, Gadget ran into the hangar carrying a large bag, obviously filled with replacement parts. Once she was aboard, both planes took off. And when both planes were outside—

                "Hey, it's raining!" exclaimed Zipper.

                "Oh, NO!!!" yelled Chip. "The lower levels will flood! Now we REALLY have to get there!! Step on it!!" All ears lowered again with fear. With an extra burst of speed, both planes sped to the north side. Again, Foxglove was hit with tremendous guilt. If she hadn't been so focused on herself, she would have heard the rain and everyone would have left for the building several minutes earlier, minutes that may have meant life or death to a mole, rabbit, or badger. The rain itself was light, however, not a sudden downpour or a cloudburst. But with no outlet or drain of any kind, the lower galleries would be sure to flood. With fear increasing every moment, both planes finally arrived—

                The RAS was pulling up camp.

                Animals were taking their leave of each other, shaking paws, hugging, crying over lost ones, staying beside their injured friends and relatives as they were being taken away to animal hospitals, or just looking at the rubble, turning around, and padding away. All the bats were flying away now. Both planes landed, and Chip jumped off. He nearly ran into some squirrels carrying away a covered stretcher. Nearby stood a ferret with an RAS band on his arm, apparently supervising the last movements. The chipmunk ran up to him and asked,

                "What's going on? Why's everyone leaving?" The ferret lifted a clipboard and replied as he read,

                "Well, that one was the last of them. All the animals that were inside the building have been taken out and are accounted for. Too bad not all of them made it."

                "You mean the rescue's over?" asked the Inventor.

                "Yes. You're the Rescue Rangers, right?" asked the mustelid, turning to look at them.

                "Sure. How did you know?" asked the Comedian.

                "The insignias on your planes kinda gave you away. I suppose you're here to pick up your jackhammer?" The Detective replied,

                "Well, that, and see if the rescue operation was still continuing, especially now that it began to rain." The carnivore looked up at the falling rain and replied,

                "Well, no, fortunately, we finished just in time. Anyway, your jackhammer is over at Tent 17," he pointed to his left. "Incredible piece of machinery. Rescued at least thirty animals just by itself." The mus blushed a trifle,

                "Um, thank you."

                "You're welcome," replied the mustela. "You'll also find several rescue officials waiting for you. It seems they want more units manufactured for this type of work. Congratulations." The mousemaid gasped. The huge mouse exclaimed,

                "Leapin' tadpoles! If everyone liked it juss' as it is, I can't imagine 'ow many more would 'ave been after it if ye *'adn't* made it on the run, Gadget luv!!" The Inventor was too shocked to reply, so the Adventurer held her shoulders and led her away, "Come on, Gadget luv, let's go get yer jackhammer." As they left, the Detective sighed. He knew he had to ask one more question, and it was never a pleasant one. Finally, he gritted his incisors and asked,

                "Um, d-do you have the final numbers?" A look of sadness overcame the RAS officer for a moment before he looked at his clipboard again, and read,

                "At 5:25 a.m. yesterday, two hundred and fifty animals were waking up when a structural failure in one of the foundation columns triggered a domino-reaction collapse of the entire structure. Fifty-two are dead, one hundred and seventy-six are injured, and twenty-two somehow managed to get by with only a few scrapes and some minor suffocation. Of the ones that died, practically all died instantly due to multiple sudden traumas—crushing, if you want to call it that—or within five minutes due to suffocation." The chipmunk took off his fedora and wiped his head.

                "So, I—I guess that—they—they didn't suffer—much—well, I—I suppose—it could have been worse—" The ferret continued,

                "Of course it could have. The rain could have come yesterday, or the original emergency call could have come two hours later, and in case many more would have died. You guys mobilised everyone just in the nick of time. Thanks, Rangers."

                "So, there's nothing else we can do here?" asked the bat lady. The mustelid looked around for a moment, and replied,

                "Not really, unless you want to help pick up camp, but it seems everyone's almost done with that as well. But thanks for the offer. You all are the top heroes of this whole rescue. Many moles, badgers, and rabbits will be very grateful you helped mobilise the RAS and all the bats." The other sciurid raised his ears and hugged his wife,

                "Hey, Foxy, you hear that? You're a hero!" The pipistrell looked/echosounded into his eyes, raised her ears as well, and smiled,

                "Thanks, Cutie. For a moment I thought *I* was the one who messed up big time here, with—with the way I've been getting distracted—you know." Her husband was too exhausted to feel scared at this point, even when he looked at her eyes. Then the other tamias turned to her,

                "You didn't do anything wrong, Foxy. You, and everyone else, acted in the nick of time. We didn't lose anyone because of any errors. We rescued all we could, and—and we did well. Great job guys." The bat lady heard the mice loading up the jackhammer into the Ranger Wing, and she asked,

                "So, um, Chip, I guess we can now go home and rest for a bit?" At this question, panic came over Dale once more, as his ears and tail showed. And once more, his survival instincts brought forth his randomness,

                "Waittaminute, Chip, shouldn't we be at the police station scoutin' out for cases?" Chip was stunned by this sudden question. If he had come up with that suggestion, Dale would probably asked, no, *pleaded* for some time off—

                "Are you sure, Dale? Maybe we should all get cleaned up first and have a decent breakfast. And it seems you need a shower more than anyone!" The rodent looked down at himself, and realised he had the same dirty and bloody shirt he had worn all day yesterday. Suddenly the chiropterid held his arm with both wings and cooed,

                "Looks like we *both* need a shower, don't we, Cutie?" Before Dale could protest, she dragged him back to the planes. Chip and the ferret also padded to the planes. The tamias then looked at the mustela, and noticed he had one eyebrow raised.

                "Newlyweds," explained the rodent.

                "Oh. My condolences," replied the carnivore. Dale obviously heard that, as he tried to turn and ask,

                "Condolences?"

                "Confirmed bachelor," explained Chip.

                "You can bet on that," added the CB, smiling a trifle, and finally raising his own ears. With that, the Rangers climbed on their planes again, and waved good-bye to the ferret, who waved back. The planes took off, and flew back to headquarters.

                On the way home, Dale was still arguing with Chip, while shifting uncomfortably as his wife kept pressing against his arm. His ears were down.

                "But Chip, we didn't go yesterday, so who knows how many cases must have slipped by!"

                "Oh, come on, Dale, you know that at most we get one big case per month, and it looks like we met our quota already!"

                "And you haven't had breakfast yet, Cute Stuff," added Foxglove, with a very soft tone in her voice.

                "But who knows what may happen today!" insisted the Comedian.

                "Now mate, juss' relax. The police station's not goin' anywhere!" said Monterey, on the other aircraft, now beginning to wonder why Dale was so hyperactive all of the sudden.

                "But—but—all the bad guys! Fat Cat, Rat Capone, Sewer Al, who knows how many of them took advantage of this! We need to catch up with them—"

                BONK!!

                "Thanks, Foxglove," said Chip, relieved. Dale rubbed his head, quite surprised that a wing membrane could pack so much force, even when balled up. At last, the tree came into view/sound. "Dale, we're going to take the day off. Everyone's too sore to do anything else. Now, stop worrying, and get cleaned up!" The Comedian knew that his bedroom was getting closer and closer. His panic was about to go into overdrive, when at that point he heard his stomach growling.

                "Hey, Cutie, looks like you need to get your strength back!" giggled his wife, while fluttering her eyelashes at him. The sciurid was torn once again by her provocation and his own sudden fears.

                "Uh, I think I do, Foxy. I didn't eat anythin' last night or this mornin'. Come to think of it, you didn't either." She sighed for a moment, and replied,

                "No, I guess I didn't. I need to get my strength back as well." The look in her eyes clearly told the chipmunk just *why* she needed to get her strength again. Now that he had a shirt on again, he was able to tug on the collar.

                "Say, Monty, what do you say you fix us up a HUGE breakfast—I mean—to make up for last night?" he asked, leaning away from his wife and toward the murid, suddenly getting yet another idea.

                "No problem, lad! I'll whip up somethin' for ye two lovebirds in no time!" The bat lady giggled at the term "lovebirds", while her husband visibly winced. They finally arrived at their tree house, left the aircraft in the hangar, and entered the main room. Chip and Gadget took the jackhammer back to her workshop.

                "Thanks, Chip! I'll need to make some refinements on this before preparing the final blueprints for the RAS. Hey, they told us that for payment, they'd grant us a lot of new material and equipment…" The mousemaid trailed off as they padded down the hall. In the kitchen, Dale and Foxglove sat opposite of each other, with the verspetilionid GAZING into his eyes as provocatively as possible. Of course, she could hear him sweating abnormally, but she didn't give it much thought because she considered that to be quite *normal*, knowing what was going to happen after breakfast, and it didn't help that she was rubbing her foot-paw on his leg, no matter how much he tried to move it away. Then Monterey placed down two huge servings of flapjacks in front of them.

                "Smells great, Monty!" buzzed Zipper. It was this comment that gave Dale another random plan.

                "Zowie, you're right, Zipper!" He suddenly stood, and chattered, "If I smell good to Zipper, then that means I must stink! Jeepers, I'm sorry, Foxy and Monty!"

                "But—"

                "ThanksforthenoteZipperbuddy!FoxyyougoaheadandfinishbreakfastI'llgoshowerrightquickandthenI'llberightbackhereIloveyou!" The chipmunk then dashed out of the kitchen, leaving behind a very confused mouse and fly, and a very annoyed bat lady.

                "Honest, Monty, I meant the food, not Dale!" explained the musca.

                "Aw, ye know Dale can sometimes get a bit mixed up on the 'ead. 'N 'e *did* smell rather sweaty, roight, luv?" The mus turned toward the pipistrell.

                She was eating her flapjacks with a definite scowl on her face, bristled fur, and flattened ears.

                There wasn't much that "Monterey" Jack Colby was honestly afraid of, but right now, for some reason, he had the strangest feeling that he'd better leave the kitchen now…

                "Dale, Chip said we were going to take the day off today!" Dale had already showered and finished his breakfast, and since Foxglove had finished her breakfast while he had showered, she had no choice but to shower while he had his breakfast. She stepped out of the bathroom to find him, much to her frustration, with a clean shirt, obviously preparing to leave for the police station.

                "Well, yeah! Why do you think I'm lettin' you rest?" The pipistrell blinked.

                "Huh?" With guilty features, the tamias turned slightly away from her and explained,

                "Honey, yesterday we had a horrible time gettin' everyone out. And today we're all sore and everythin'. Do you really think I want to put you through *more* workouts?" the verspetilionid's body partially agreed with him. Her emotions didn't.

                "But Daaaale???" she pleaded, lowering her ears and swishing her tail. Her tone of voice now had as much painful yearning as it had frustration. It took a moment for the sciurid to put his brain back on line before his own emotions scrapped this new random plan and gave in right there and then.

                "Foxy, you said you felt terrible about being distracted. Don't you think *I* feel terrible about *bein'* the one who's distractin' you?" Logic appeared to be winning the battle within the chiropterid, as this sudden new line of reasoning brought all her emotions to an abrupt halt. "It would also be wrong of me to have you sleep horizontally, after all you went through yesterday, not to mention the fact that you know you don't rest well during the night. Foxy, please, you need this. Rest on your perch and sleep today. I don't want to wear you out, not after all that happened." His own expression and features were quite filled with guilt. She had to admit, he *did* had a point and he was very convincing—

                Wearing HER out?

                "But Cutie, I thought *I* was wearing you out!" The rodent let out a nervous giggle/chatter that almost caused her to giggle as well. He brought his ears up for a moment and turned to her,

                "Now have I complained one bit since September? Come on, Foxy, I know you need a break. I'll be at the station listenin' for cases. And don't worry, I won't jump into any by myself. If anythin' comes up, I'll be right back, and Chip will decide what to do." A yawn caused Foxglove to relent. "Then when I get back, I'll do all our laundry. See you later, Foxy!" In a rather sudden manner, he left the room, without even giving her a good-bye kiss. Stunned, Foxglove fluttered to her perch, and was about to wonder, and worry, why her husband was suddenly such a workaholic, but exhaustion prevented that, for now—

                *Laundry?*


	5. Drei

DREI  -  THE DODGING GAME: ILLNESS

                "Dale, where are you going?" asked Chip, as he saw him run down the hall while he exited Gadget's workshop.

                Dale skidded to a halt. Would he lie to his best friend? Or would he finally come to grips with what was going on and tell him the truth?

                He decided to try to mix the two. He turned and replied,

                "Um, Foxy's really tired, so she'll be sleepin' in today. I guess the most I can do is go to the station and see if anythin' comes up." Stunned for a moment, Chip said,

                "But Dale, we already talked about this! Look, it's great that you've been wanting to help out, but I really think you should have a good rest today!" Once more, the Comedian put another guilty face, lowered his ears, and looked down, while holding his bandaged paws in front of him,

                "Chip, it's been five months. I've been feelin' kinda—well, guilty that I haven't been pullin' my fair share of all the work around here. Even Foxy's felt guilty about bein' so distracted lately. Chip, we're sorry we've been slackin' off." Something didn't quite add up with what Dale was saying, and yet, it made perfect sense. Then again, after yesterday's talk, the Detective was feeling somewhat guilty himself about not giving them more time off, especially with Foxglove's condition. Perhaps it was time for a balance.

                "Dale, you—you haven't been slacking off, and Foxy *hasn't* been getting distracted. There are things that can slip by *all* of us. There's no reason why you should feel guilty! And there's nothing wrong if you take a day off or two if you're just as exhausted as everyone else! In fact, I've been wondering why you're so eager to work now, perhaps more eager than me, and you *know* what a workaholic I am!" The Comedian looked up,

                "Well, Chip, I—I guess I'm tryin' to make up for all the time me and Foxy took for ourselves. And when lives were at stake, well, I—I guess the Rescue Ranger in me suddenly kicked in again. And hey, it's not as if I'm goin' to work out at the police station, you know." True. The most they did at the police station was sit, wait, and occasionally fish out a report from the wastebasket. "Don't worry, Chip. If anythin' comes up, I'll come home right away." Ears perked up again.

                "Okay, Dale. I'm glad to see you and Foxy getting back into the swing of things. See you later!" With that, Dale turned and padded down the hall and out the front door. Chip turned and looked toward the couple's bedroom door, and sighed. 

                It was very exciting helping Gadget and seeing her eyes shine with that eternal spark as she worked on the modifications of her jackhammer, to the point of now making *two* models, pneumatic *and* hydraulic. In a very real sense, it was as if she was now seeing her "children" go off into the world to make it a better place. And he was right there, with her, to share her joy. Now Gadget had gone to get some more rest before continuing her modifications, and when she did, he would be there with her. His stomach fluttered for a moment when he realised she was letting him get closer, closer to the joys of her work, closer and deeper into her own world. And he, too, was bringing her closer and deeper into his. Their dates were progressing very well, with him being careful in his advances. He wanted her to set the pace of their relationship, letting her proceed with the caution she needed, after all the pain she had gone through earlier in life. And as she advanced with him, he showed her how he would always treat her with much respect, tact, and the utmost care; he would show her that he *indeed* loved her so much he would let help her come out of her shell as carefully as possible. But sometimes, there were moments when he wished she would just simply come out and declare her undying love to him, so he would finally declare *his* undying love to her, and then, later on, Gadget and he would marry and finally consummate their relationship as fully as Dale and Foxglove had consummated theirs.

                He looked at the door one more time, and lowered his ears and tail. They had a long way to go.

                Dale had won. In this one facet of their one-upsmanship, Dale had won.

                He looked back at Gadget's door.

                The road was long, but the rewards would *certainly* be worth it, both for Gadget and him.

                Dale laid on top of the ceiling lamp. No cases had come in today, none that the Rangers could take care of, at least. There was the usual number of muggings, break-ins, and accidents, but no more than this New York City precinct had seen. They were very well staffed, and all emergencies were dealt with quickly.

                The chipmunk sighed and lowered his ears in frustration. If nothing came up soon, he would have to go home to his wife. But, wasn't that a good thing? Wasn't it a good thing that he had a wife to come home to, a wife that loved him more than life itself? Why was he so afraid of being close to her now? Why were there no cases today? Did Fat Cat find out that Mole had relatives in yesterday's accident and given everyone the day off? Why wasn't Rat Capone taking advantage of the situation? Where were all the bad guys today? If he didn't bring back a case to keep everyone busy again, Chip, being the great friend that he is, would most certainly give him and Foxglove more time off if she asked for it. And, it was that time off which he dreaded now. For some reason, as great as everything was before, he simply didn't want to be close to his wife anymore, and he didn't know why. Or, maybe he *did* know, but was afraid and/or ashamed to admit it. Maybe he should write to his parents or see a marriage counsellor or something, because obviously things couldn't go on the way they were going.

                A little boy with a bad case of the sniffles came into the office.

                "And what can we do for you, sir?" asked Sergeant Spinelli, looking down from his jelly donut. The little boy lowered his head and began mumbling something unintelligible. "Excuse me, what was that?" asked Spinelli, after an unsuccessful attempt to decipher what the boy had said. The rodent, too, couldn't understand what the boy wanted, so he jumped off the lamp onto a shelf, scampered down to the floor, and sneaked around until he was under Spinelli's desk, nearly in front of the boy.

                "…mmwwwwhhannnt—sniff—iiiiiinnd—sniff---mmmmmmmci—sniff—cle—"

                "Um, I'm sorry, I can't understand you. Could you speak up?" For a moment, the boy said nothing. Instead, he appeared to be deep in thought, inhaling deeply, as if preparing what he needed to say—

                "ACHOOOOOOOOOO!" That was quite understandable by any species.

                "Bless you!" exclaimed Spinelli, while handing him a tissue. The boy cleared his nasal passages, but the sciurid had to use his shirt to clean his face. "Now, what did you say?"

                "I can't—sniff—find my bi—sniff-cycle,"

                *Hmmm, a stolen bicycle? I wonder if Chip would take this case…yuck,* thought the tamias, as he tried to keep focused on the boy while cleaning himself up.

                "Where did you last see your bicycle?" asked Spinelli, beginning to write down the facts.

                "In—in—ACHOOOOOOO!!!" Dale was smart enough to shield himself with one of the desk legs this time. "The basement—sniff."

                "The basement of your house?" The boy nodded. *Oh boy, a break in?* thought the Comedian to himself, wagging his tail and perking up his ears. *Chip will have a field day with this one!* Spinelli continued questioning the victim, "And when did this happen?" The boy looked at Spinelli with the ultimate puppy eyes and sniffed,

                "Last year." Both the human and the chipmunk's shoulders slumped, not to mention the rodent's ears and tail drooped again. Before Spinelli could begin explaining to the boy why this particular type of crime was outside of his jurisdiction, a very irate lawyer entered the office.

                "Hey, I've been looking all over for you! Are you wasting the policeman's time again? Just wait till we get home!" The man, obviously the boy's father, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away. As he left, he turned and told Spinelli, "Sorry, it happens every time it's my turn on Custody." And with that, the man led the boy away, mumbling something about a broken bicycle. Dale, obviously disappointed, climbed back to the lamp. So much for the break-in.

                It seemed fate, or some mysterious disciplinary force, was working against Dale. It was already 8 o'clock, and no cases had come in, none they Rangers could solve, anyway. Perhaps he should go home and face the music. And knowing Foxglove, she would probably be putting some romantic music in the bedroom. Finally, the rodent gave up. Still with his ears down, he left the office and went up to the roof. Once he got outside, he saw that the rain hadn't let up, though it was still as light as it was this morning. And if it kept raining all night, Foxglove would forget about flying tonight and stay inside—

                With *him*.

                Just what the Purgatory was wrong with him? Did *he* suddenly have enough? Did he *honestly* lose any and all desire for his mate? No, there were moments in which he nearly gave in to her advances, nearly, that is. What could be keeping him back? It's *not* as if they were doing anything wrong, after all, they *were* legally married, *and* they loved each other very much, as it was proved over and over and over in the last five months. As the chipmunk thought about this, he looked at his bandaged paws. Ignoring Gadget's catapult, he took the long way down inside the building, and *padded* back to the park.

                Buying time.

                Or he would try to exhaust himself by the time he reached the tree—no, he had done this plenty of times before, so it was certainly no feat of endurance for him. Dale sighed again. This was just plain ridiculous. He *really* wasn't tired, though maybe a bit sleepy, he loved his wife, his wife loved him, it was all perfectly legal and natural, they were in the prime of their lives—

                He would end this nonsense right now and give his wife a romantic night whether he felt like it or not. Well, maybe after dinner. And, maybe after a late night movie, or a late-late-late-late night movie. Oh, and after Foxglove finished hunting. Oh, and after they both dried up, in case the rain didn't let up. And, perhaps, after he slept a bit himself. He would tell Foxglove to wake him up after she got dry. Or maybe, Foxglove would return the favour and let him sleep tonight, again. Or perhaps they would wait a few days until she shifted her day/night cycles again. Wowie, marrying a bat sure brought a lot of adjustments—

                He shook off all the water from his fur as he reached the front door. Bad move, for after he patted down his fur a trifle and reached to open the door, it suddenly flew open, and a reddish-brown flash zoomed out—

                And greeted him with a very interesting kiss.

                Not to mention she literally pounced-tackled him, with both wings *and* legs wrapped around him. And, with such a force that he toppled backward and fell on the branch. Powerful chest muscles used for flight were now giving him a bear hug. A long-suppressed conditioned reflex kicked in: his arms were pinned to his sides, he couldn't move, he could hardly breathe, he couldn't speak—

                The only times this had happened to him before was when he was captured by a villain and looking at a horrible face, meaning he was in big trouble, AGAIN, meaning his life was probably in grave danger, meaning—

                Foxglove was trying to suck the life out of him?

                Odd, as suggestive as this greeting was, he was actually beginning to panic, much the same way he panicked when they first met—

                "Mmmmmmmffffffff?" he asked while the bat lady was examining his tonsils.

                "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," she replied, with her eyes closed, swishing her tail like never before. The chipmunk was on the edge of an anxiety attack. He had to—

                "Luceeeeeeeeeelle!!!" she gasped, after suddenly breaking off the kiss, GAZING into his eyes. "Out here, or inside? You pick the spot, Cutie. Oh, I just LOVE the way your fur sounds when you shake yourself dry!!" His heart was racing as hers was, his breathing was as laboured as hers was, his eyes were as dilated as hers was, his ears were—

                Laid back, opposite of hers?

                Obviously confusing panic for passion, she was about to kiss her tamias again, when suddenly he squealed,

                "Foxy!" His unusually high pitch made the verspetilionid realise she was just maybe hugging him a trifle too tightly. She lightened her grip on him, but not by much. She wasn't going to let him get away, not this time. The sciurid, on the other paw, could breathe a bit easier now, but that didn't remove his panic right away. His arms were still pinned. And things didn't get any easier because this bundle of love was now kissing his neck, making his fur bristle with even more panic.

                "Foxy? I—I think you'd better stop," he pleaded, or tried to.

                "Oh, I think not," she replied with a seductive voice. "We do have a lot to catch up on, remember?" The rodent almost lost control again when the chiropterid playfully chewed on his right ear, but he managed to say,

                "Ummmmmm, Foxy? I *really* don't think we should be out here."

                "Why not, Cutie? Everyone else is inside." Her whispered voice was driving him insane. Or scared, he didn't know which.

                "Uh, Dear, please, I'm all wet, and at the police station this snotty kimmmmmmmmmmmmffffffff—!!!" Okay, this was getting out of control. The pipistrell broke the kiss for a moment to give her comment,

                "Ask me if I care."

                "Do you carrmmmmmmmmmmmfffffff!!!!!!!!!" She was, literally, eating his words, and it was obvious that she really didn't care what had happened at the station. The tamias struggled to turn his head and break the kiss, not to mention get his eyes off her face, and when he did, he exclaimed, "Foxy! I'm all wet and full of human germs! This kid sneezed on me!"

                "We're not humans," she replied seductively again. "Their germs can't harm us."

                "But I'm all icky!"

                "The rain washed it off. I can barely smell any ickyness." She nuzzled all over his face while they argued,

                "We're gettin' wet out here!"

                "It was a hot day." She was trying to kiss him again, but he was dodging her lips, trying to keep up his panicky pleadings. Naturally, she thought he was playing hard-to-get.

                "Everyone can see us!!"

                "Everyone's inside because of the rain."

                "They have windows!!!"

                "Bill Gates is lucky and so am I."

                "Windows made of GLASS!!"

                "No light out here."

                "Foxy, please! I don't wanna do this in public!"

                "We don't exactly have an audience, Cutie."

                "Uhhhhhhhh—I can't move?"

                "Just the way I like it."

                "Uhhh—my back is killin' me?"

                "You're lying on my wings."

                "Uhhhh, *your* wings are killin' *you*?"

                "Not as much as not being with you, Hun."

                "Um—I'm hungry?"

                "………"

                A small frown crept onto the pipistrell's face when she realised she couldn't counter that argument, and it made her ears droop and her tail stop moving. So reluctantly, she untangled herself from the tamias. As they both sat up, Foxglove began noticing a few things. While it was true that she did not smell any ickyness on her husband, what she *did* smell was something odd. Or, it was what she *didn't* smell. She had her own scent to think of right now, or more exactly, to make Dale think about her, but all she could smell from him was just rain, and his everyday scent, with a touch of human mucus.

                He didn't smell musky at all, and his ears and tail were in fright mode. Why was he not getting the least bit aroused?

                "For cryin' out loud, Foxy! Just look at yourself! I messed up all your fur! Just what were you thinkin'?" A seductive smile replaced the slight smirk, and her ears and tail perked up again, very much telling Dale just *what* she was thinking about. He had to snap her out of it. "Um, forget I asked."

                "I can't, he he he!" The chipmunk needed to regain control,

                "But really, Foxy, I know you're glad to see me, but you really need to get a grip on yourself. Um, sleep well?"

                "For about an hour. I couldn't sleep all day, not without you next to me." Ho boy.

                "What? Then what did you do all day?"

                "Watch TV, like you do. Anyway, I'm fully recovered. I hope you are too." This was getting out of control again. Both stood up.

                "Foxy, I—I don't want to—"

                "What?" she asked, *very* high-pitched, making his ears hurt. Her ears fell back and her tail stiffened.

                "I—I don't want you to think I'm takin' advantage of you!" he added in a quick recovery. "I mean, you really should have slept in today; you have bags under your eyes!"

                "I do?" she asked, touching under her eyes with her wingtips. "Oh, well, don't worry. I asked Chip if we could get the weekend off. And he said sure, provided you didn't bring back a case. Uh, do you have a case?" she asked, with a light tone of dread. Dale almost cursed out loud.

                "Um, no, I don't," he said instead. The bat lady wondered why he wasn't happier than he sounded. She decided to fix this by raising her ears again, wagging her tail, placing her wings around his shoulders, and her head on his cheek,

                "Well, I guess we have all weekend to ourselves. Don't you just love Chip?"

                "More and more each day," he replied, smiling through clenched incisors, trying not to flinch at her touch. He had to think fast again. "Now, let me get cleaned up, ok?"

                "We *both* need cleaning up this time, Cutie," she replied, suggestively again, as they both padded toward the door. "And I'm *not* going into the bathroom all by myself this time!" Dale tugged on his shirt again.

                "Uh, then let's dry up and have dinner first, okay?"

                "Okay, Cute Stuff," she giggled. 

                Drying was somehow turned into another dodging game. The way Foxglove was using her towel *and* gazing at him was provocative enough, but even more so was how close to Dale she was while doing it, not to mention all the "Luceelle's" she was giving him. He, on the other paw, was trying not to look at her, *and* keep his distance from her as well. She, naturally, took all of this as yet another game of hard-to-get, and she would have pounced on him right then and there, but after hearing his stomach growl several times, she decided to put her hormones on hold, AGAIN, and have dinner first.

                Dinner was an odd sight as well. Dale deliberately sat opposite of Foxglove, but that was no deterrent to her at all. She kept GAZING into his eyes whenever she could not echosound at him while she chewed, and she kept playing footsie (despite his refusal to footsie her back), making him nervous as he fumbled with his dinner, and almost making him do a few spit-takes as well. The others thought they were getting flashbacks of their first times together, when the batmaid, being as impulsive as she was, literally threw herself at the foot-paws of a chipmunk she had barely met. And the tension was quite palpable. This caused the other Rangers to quickly finish their dinner and retire to their rooms, letting the couple have the private time they needed.

                The tamias padded back to their room, with the pipistrell's wings around him again, as she hugged him from behind. He almost felt like a prisoner of her impulsiveness. They entered their room, and the bat lady locked the door shut.

                The warden had closed his cell.

                "I'll get the water running, Cutie," she cooed, as she placed her wings on his shoulders again. "You'd better have that shirt on the floor by the time I get out." Ugh, there was that face again. The chipmunk bristled and turned away slightly from that horrible sight,

                "Um, can't I take a nap first? I'm still a little sore." His wife thought for a moment, and replied,

                "Well, okay. I do have to freshen up a bit. But don't you get *too* comfy!"

                "Oh, I won't!" he exclaimed suddenly. The chiropterid kissed him deeply again, causing his defensive reaction once more. She backed up a trifle and echosounded him suspiciously for a moment, and decided to ignore that for now. He'd loosen up in a few minutes. She left for the bathroom, and once she was inside, the rodent flopped on the bed, and slowly removed his shirt. He then laid on his side, closed his eyes, and got another random idea.

                Eight minutes later, Foxglove turned on the shower, and waited a moment. As she waited for the pitch of the sound of the water to change, indicating an increase in temperature, she thought she heard Dale call her. She padded to the door of the bathroom, and then heard something else,

                "Lift it!!"

                She entered the bedroom again, and saw him lying on the bed, twisting and turning, apparently having a nightmare.

                "Lift the slab, dummy! There's a badger under it! And hurry, I can hear the rain pourin' outside!" His ears were down, his eyes were closed tight, and he was gripping the sheets tightly as well. "Then get a crowbar, stupid!! We have to rescue him! We're the Rescue Rangers!! Chip, get Gadget's jackhammer here! I don't know how long the badger can hold out!!" Instantly, his wife was beside him, trying to shake him into wakefulness.

                "Dale, wake up! You're having a nightmare!" pleaded the verspetilionid.

                "I know! This is a nightmare!! Get that badger some oxygen!! The rain is gettin' heavy! Where's that jackhammer??!!"

                "DALE!!!" The sciurid's eyes snapped open, and he gasped when he saw that horrible face in front of him again. Following his plan, he began to weep, and he hugged his wife tightly, as he sobbed,

                "Foxy—we couldn't save them all—we—we couldn't—so many—so—many—————!!!!!!" He poured his tears on her abdomen, and being as emotional as she was, she, too began crying over the ones lost, crying over her own selfishness, and crying over the "terror" that gripped her husband so.

                "Dale—Dale, I'm—I'm sorry——I didn't know you felt so bad———Honey——forgive me———please forgive me!!" She continued to weep for a while, forgetting any romantic ideas, and just comforting her "tormented" mate. She didn't know how long they remained that way until his sobbing finally stopped. She looked/echosounded down at him—

                And he was sound asleep.

                She wasn't too disappointed this time, not after realising he still needed to recover emotionally from yesterday. Instead, her own disappointment and frustration were replaced by guilt once more. Carefully, she laid him down again, and got up. She went back to the bathroom and turned off the shower, of which the water had turned cold a while back anyway, turned out the lights, and climbed onto bed again.

                "I'm sorry, Cutie," she whispered, "But all you had to do was tell me! Let me know when you're ready. I'll wait, for you, I'll wait." She covered him with her wing, as if to shield him from any more nightmares, and fell asleep.

                Dale shivered when he felt her leathery wing slowly cover him, but inwardly sighed when he heard her fall asleep. Finally, he had control.

                For now.

                The following morning, Dale awakened to find Foxglove gone, and a throbbing headache pulsing through his head. He also found his nose discharging liquid as well.

                He caught the kid's cold.

                But wasn't that impossible? How could he have given in to human germs—?

                He was out in the rain last night! No wonder he was sick! Dizzily, he got out of bed, and went to the bathroom to clear up his nose as best he could. He came out with an even bigger headache, so he went to the living room to see if the others could get him some medicine. When he got there, he noticed that none of the other Rangers were there. Instead, he saw Foxglove come through the front door, holding a small bottle.

                He flinched involuntarily, bristling and flattening his ears, thinking he had just seen a monster. Hopefully, his wife would be too busy with her hormones to notice that.

                "Good morning, Cutie," she said padding toward him, "I heard you sniffling this morning, and echosounding you closely, I heard your headache as well. So I went to the pharmacy to get you this." As she handed him the medicine, he replied, with slightly more control over himself,

                "Aw, thanks, Foxy. I was about to ask the others to get me some medicine as well. Um, where are the others?" he asked, looking about.

                "They went to the RAS to turn in the blueprints and the prototypes of Gadget's jackhammers. They should be back this afternoon." She followed her tamias into the kitchen, as he prepared his dosage. Getting a trifle apprehensive at how close the pipistrell was to him, he tried to continue the "neutral" conversation,

                "Oh. Aren't you goin' to join them?" Jumping like an impatient child, the chiropterid replied,

                "No, Cutie. We have the whole place to ourselves, isn't that great??" After painfully swallowing a spoonful, the rodent turned and said, grimacing,

                "Uh, Hon, I hate to repeat a cliché, but I *do* have a headache. I'm *really* not feelin' well right now."

                "Oh, don't worry, Cutie. That's powerful stuff you just took. Instant relief for the next twelve hours!" The Comedian looked at the bottle with shock.

                TWELVE HOURS?

                "B-b-but what about you?" he stuttered, backing off slightly and keeping his ears low and tail still, "If we get close, you might catch this cold—oh no, I hope you didn't catch it already!" Raising her ears high, tail in a blur, and padding provocatively toward him again, she replied, taking the bottle away from him and placing it on the counter,

                "I already had *my* headache taken care of, Cute Stuff. Maybe that cold *did* jump from human to chipmunk, and *maybe* from chipmunk to bat, but my, um, *condition* kinda gave me an edge over it. The pharmacist gave me one tablet, and *my* cold is gone!" She placed her wings on his shoulders, and echosounded his face.

                Ugh, that *face* again.

                "And now, in a few minutes, we'll have twelve hours of non-stop——*relief*." The kitchen was getting unbearably hot.

                "Um, Foxy? I think I also have a fever," he said, tugging on his collar again, turning to look away from that horrible face.

                "Well then, it looks like we'll have to get you in that shower after all! Um—" Suddenly remembering what had happened last night, and hearing his bandaged paws, she backed off a trifle, lowered her ears, stilled her tail, and asked, "Dale? Are—are you okay now?" The question and her unexpected self-control confused him momentarily.

                "Huh?"

                "I mean, you really scared me last night. I didn't know how bad you took the rescue this week. I just want to know if—if you're still upset over it." Understanding what she meant, the chipmunk decided to continue his random plan. He also lowered his ears and tail even more, padded to the living room, and sat on the couch. His wife sat beside him, and after a moment, he began,

                "Foxy, I know we rescued all we could. I know we got there in the nick of time. I know that even if we had ten times as much animals and jackhammers, we *still* would have lost plenty. I know it's not the first time we get DOA's in a rescue operation, but——but————they were just so *many*!" He put both bandaged paws on his head. The bat lady held his slacking shoulders, and he continued while shaking his paws, "Every movie I've seen where there is a massacre, well, it's scary, and sometimes they give me nightmares, but deep down I know that it's all just an act. It's not real. All that is nothin' but dummies, actors, lotsa make up, and special effects. But this——this was *real*!! It was the real thing!! Those badgers, moles, and rabbits are never goin' to get up and try take two anymore—!!!" He tried to make his voice choke, and it rather worked, since, he *was* still a trifle shaken. For a while, there was silence, and finally, the pipistrell spoke,    

                "Cutie, um, I'll be at the police station. You go ahead and rest. And remember, I'll always be here for you. I love you." She gave him a light kiss on the cheek, which was a remarkable feat of self-control for her at this point. Also exhibiting incredible self-control, the tamias used all his strength to refrain from bristling and flinching. With that, she got up, and left.

                Dale laid back on the couch. He was now manipulating his own emotions *as well as* Foxglove's. But he couldn't get intimate with her. 

                Not yet.

                This plan worked out perfectly well, until Dale woke up the next day. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was his reflection in a monster's huge dark blue eyes that were looking straight back at him with the ultimate expression of hatred, vengeance, and destruction—

                Just as he opened his mouth to scream his lungs out again, the monster clamped her mouth over his and began to suck his breath out. He struggled to detach himself from the monster, but he appeared to be tied to her with leather sheets. His bandaged paws, however, were near his head, so he tried to separate from her by pushing against the monster's shoulders—

                Foxglove thought for a moment that the struggling was another way of getting passionate, until she saw his flattened ears as he tried to push away from her. Stunned, she broke the kiss, and he gasped for air. Dale looked back at her with the most frightened expression she had ever seen, which caused her to raise one eyebrow. The chipmunk's quick thinking interrupted her thoughts.

                "I—couldn't breathe there—GASP!!!" Odd, did he forget how to kiss?

                "Cutie, you're supposed to breathe through your nose," replied the bat lady, a trifle confused.

                "Well sure, if I know what's goin' on!!" chattered the rodent, trying to sound a trifle angry. The chiropterid lowered her ears, looked/echosounded down a trifle and replied,

                "Sorry, Dale, it's just that—I couldn't help myself. I really had my heart set on spending the day with you yesterday, and you wouldn't believe how lonely I got at the police station. Everything reminded me of you! It was really hard to concentrate with your scent all over the place!" He also raised one eyebrow,

                "But-but didn't the others join you later?"

                "Well, yes. They told me you suggested that they join me there so they wouldn't catch your cold. That was really thoughtful of you," she smiled a trifle. "But even with them there, I—I missed you so much!! I needed to feel your fur against mine, to hear your voice and breathing and heartbeat and intestines, your sonar profile—"

                "Uh, Foxy—" She was ruffling his headfur and pressing herself against him, and he was still trying to push away.

                "Dale, I flew home as fast as I could once we left the station. I wanted so much to find you watching TV so I could snatch you up and lock us up in here, but you were already asleep!" His fur bristled under the covers,

                "Um, well, that medicine kinda made me sleepy."

                "I wanted to wake you up and pick up where we left off—but-but-you looked so cute and peaceful, so I decided to try to sleep next to you. It took me forever to close my eyes and hush my sonar, knowing that the 'munk of my dreams was right next to me. When I woke up just now, I felt so—so—um—fidgety. I really couldn't help myself! When I heard that your breathing was clear and that your headache was gone, I lost control. Dale—" The verspetilionid stopped pressing against him and looked/echosounded at him with the ultimate puppy-dog eyes, "I-I know you might still be all shook up from the rescue and I don't want to be selfish at all, but—but—" The sciurid became even more frightened when their noses touched. "Dale—I need you—really, *really* bad!" What now? His cold was gone. He cursed inwardly at 24-hour viruses. His "emotional trauma" was losing more and more credibility.

                Random, random, random, think random!

                "Um, Foxy?" he asked, a trifle shakily, still trying to pull free of her wings.

                "Yes, Cutie?" Her ears perked up again.

                "I have an idea. To make up for lost time, I'm goin' to get you a surprise. But, I have to go out to get it, so you'll have to let go of me."

                The pipistrell thought. 

                And thought.

                And thought some more.

                "Dale, can we do without the surprise? Cold showers are losing their effect on me." The tamias *had* to flinch at that. His mate was running out of options as well. He tried to put a tender expression on his face without looking at her eyes, but he couldn't perk up his ears. He continued,

                "Please, Foxy. It's—really special. And we do have all weekend. Besides, if we start now without it," he shivered in fright, "we won't be able to stop, and the surprise will be lost. Can you let go of me now?"

                She thought once more.

                And thought some more. 

                And thought still some more.

                "Um, Dale, I kinda need your help letting go of you." And it was true. Her wings were practically locked around him. Several painful minutes later, he managed to extricate himself from her grasp. He stood and looked for a clean shirt in his drawer, much to Foxglove's disappointment. While he was doing this, an unpleasant thought crossed Dale's mind.

                "Um———Foxy?" asked the chipmunk, with his back turned toward her.

                "Yes, Cutie?" asked the bat lady, sitting up a trifle.

                "Before we met——um——how did you———did you——er——handle yourself durin' the fall?" Placing her hormones on hold once more, she looked/echosounded down to the bed, sat up, and hugged her legs. She searched her memory for a moment, and began,

                "Well Dale, it wasn't as if I gave it much thought, at first. I was a loner when I was a kid, so no male bat ever echosounded me wrong or anything. Freddie captured me right before my first fall season, right when I hit puberty. She kept us in cages for a long time. I had these—impulses—but with no male bat around, they were rather easy to ignore. She kept her place warm, and with a certain potion of hers, I didn't bother hibernating that year, so I guess that's also when my body cycles began fluctuating. It was during that winter when she cast the spell that made her able to talk to animals, and she tried a lot of other stuff too. Since she kinda threw my body cycles out of sync, I kinda kept echosounding for other bats on and off over the next year, but I was afraid of getting close and getting Freddie all mad at me and doing harm to me and the bats. I managed to finish that year okay, but it was during the third fall season when everything—um—pounced on me. Freddie noticed that, of course, so she prepared a suppressant. It worked very well, too!" She turned to look/echosound at her husband, smiling. "It kept me from getting distracted, and I became a better helper. Everything was fine—" she looked/echosounded down again, "—until I heard you falling."

                "Huh?" he asked, turning back to face her, his ears finally straightening. "But we didn't meet during autumn!" She turned back and continued,

                "I-I know. When I first heard you, it was as if the suppressant had just disappeared. Dale, I was just as frightened as you were when I came on to you. I mean, you weren't a bat, but it's just that the way your sonar profile sounds—it put all the male bats to shame!" She looked/echosounded at him very tenderly. "And when I got to know you better—well, I just wanted to be with you—forever."

                "But—but—what happened when you left the first time? You were gone over a year!" She smiled and continued,

                "Dale, don't worry. I didn't cheat on you. When—when—you—" this brought forth painful memories, so her smile disappeared as she lowered her head and ears as her heart began aching, "*turned me down*," her voice cracked, "I was devastated like you wouldn't believe. I left and stayed in various roosts, but I didn't dare join a bat colony. I just couldn't. I couldn't risk being heartbroken again. Well—um—" she composed herself and continued, "it seemed that Freddie's suppressant didn't wear off completely that year, or it still had some lingering effects, so that fall I didn't have any major problems. I hibernated that year in an old store, and I guess that kinda reset my body cycles again. Then I found that exotic church, and when I came back the following summer and—" her face lit up again, "and you took me back, Dale, I was in Heaven."

                "But how did you manage to go through *last* fall, when we were datin'? I mean, I noticed your change in scent but I didn't think much about it since I'm not a bat. And you weren't that—um—*fidgety* back then, either—or—not as fidgety as you are now." The pipistrell chuckled for a moment,

                "I think the suppressant needed one more cycle to completely wear out. It didn't—turn everything off completely—and it was very hard for me to stay controlled, but all the crime solving took care of my excess—um—energy. Then came winter. Gadget's heating works great, but without the potion—"

                "You were half-awake all the time." The tamias put away his own fears for a moment. He padded closer and patted her head. "Aw, Foxy, if you wanted to hibernate, all you had to do was say so!" The verspetilionid looked/echosounded at him and smiled again. The sciurid had to step back, for some reason.

                "I know. But I knew that none of you would be hibernating, either. And spending four months in the same house with my boyfriend without seeing him or hearing him or talking to him—was too much for me. I wanted to spend all the time I could with you, even if I was only semiconscious. In fact, the only memories I have of last winter are Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day——and you." She looked/echosounded at him with tears in her eyes. He had to turn away, for some reason, again.

                "When spring came along——I woke up fully, and Dale——" Foxglove had to stop to regain control, "Bats get Fall Fever while everyone else gets Spring Fever, but to me, it seemed as if I got Spring, Summer, Fall, *and* Winter Fever all rolled into one! I had never felt like that before! Not with any bat, or anyone!! I mean, Dale, I know what comes naturally for female bats, but just hearing you everyday——it was something bigger, better, and much higher than what any bat must have felt before!!" Dale stood still for a moment. He turned a bit and asked,

                "You—you mean you felt like this——since March? Then why did you—um—get—uh—all——active since September?" The chiropterid smiled and blushed a trifle,

                "Well, Cutie, I thought all my—urges—were released the moment we went on our honeymoon. And they were, kind of. You are the 'bestest' lover any female could have. And now that we're married and all my cycles are reset, my 'Fall Fever' is finally getting the attention it needs! But Dale, Fever or not, I love you all year long. I don't care what season it is. Every time I hear you, it's as if the Fever lands on me and it *feels* like fall, even though it's summer or spring or winter. I mean, from June up to September, I don't remember loving anyone or anything as much as I loved you and I couldn't get enough of you. Now, I guess that my Fall Fever just makes things much more fun for us! I love you so much, Dale, and I don't want to spend any more time without you. Cutie, please——" she looked/echosounded at the sheets again, and whimpered, "——don't go." The rodent winced again. His mate needed him. Why didn't he need her? He turned away.

                "Foxy, just wait a moment. I'll make everythin' up to you." He still wouldn't look at her. "This will be a great weekend. I'll be back as soon as I can."

                "Dale—" she pleaded, rising from the bed.

                "OhzowielookatthetimeI'dbetterhurryotherwiseIwon'tgetmysurpriseintimeforyouI'llberightbacksorryIloveyou!!" Before she could pounce on him, he was suddenly gone, and the door was shut.

                In her face.

                Foxglove seriously considered asking Gadget to connect their shower to the freezer.

                It was long after lunchtime when Dale finally got the nerve to return to Headquarters. The orange October sun was just above the New York skyline, casting long shadows over the park, now coloured in a bright Halloween-orange/brown. The rodent looked at the huge oak he called home.

                He couldn't believe he was going to do this.

                He only hoped that it would work, after all, having lived in the city so long, his body had very much developed tolerance to some types of food that weren't rodent-standard, even if the definition of "standard" was quite stretched for him. When he first tried them, they actually tasted much better than he thought. Hot dogs and pepperoni or anchovy pizza are normally not part of rodent cuisine, but if properly cooked and seasoned, they're a very welcome dish on any rodent's plate. Monterey had also used food like that in some recipes he served them. And it was accepted by all stomachs, including Foxglove's, an insectivore, nonetheless. However, practically all that time, all meat products or by-products had been properly cooked, except for a few hot dogs.

                They had practically never eaten any 100% carnivorous food raw.

                He felt his right cheek pouch for a moment.

                Finding it was nauseating in itself. After all, most human places of that kind, despite health regulations, tended to be more than nauseating for herbivores. What was more nauseating was actually grabbing it, even with his paw wrapped in plastic. And he nearly threw up when he stuffed it inside his cheek pouch. He still felt a trifle nauseous now, knowing what was in there. He only hoped that he hadn't conditioned himself to the point of full tolerance. Maybe he should have grabbed more. Furthermore, there was no way of telling what the effects would be, or how long they would last.

                Or even, if it would kill him.

                He didn't know if he grabbed too much or too little. Too much, and he would die. Too little, and he would just get a few hours of discomfort. And who knows if this would keep that monster away from him. His ears and tail remained low and still.

                He reached the oak, and thought about using the Gadget's elevator, which she lovingly installed just for Foxglove and him for their wedding day. Realising it would make a lot of noise, he entered the garage where they kept the Ranger Skate, instead. His bandaged paws limited his climbing abilities right now, but even if they weren't bandaged, he suddenly realised it was pointless to sneak in, because with sunset fast approaching Foxglove would already be wide awake, if she had decided to sleep in the first place. Chances are, she would be awake now, waiting for him with romantic thoughts again. But why did he not have romantic thoughts himself? Wasn't he a newlywed? Wasn't he in love? What was wrong with him?

                He hoped that her sonar wouldn't be able to detect what was inside his cheek pouch. He grabbed just enough to provide the needed effect, he hoped, and not too much to make his cheek pouch bulge noticeably. With luck, she would probably dismiss it as a swollen tonsil, or even ignore it because she would be echosounding other parts of his body. And he hoped he would be able to keep her tongue from pushing into his cheek pouch. He entered the tree house and found Monterey and Zipper watching T.V. He raised his ears, padded over to the couch, and was about to ask them where Chip and Gadget were—

                "OOOFFFF!!!!"

                The sciurid felt as if a cocktail party had just hit him on the small of the back and knocked him to the floor, except that this cocktail party was somewhat fluffier. Still, it was quite solid, so the fluffiness didn't keep his lower vertebræ from bursting with pain. That monster had caught him from behind, trying to snap his back and begin devouring him from his left cheek. His arms were pinned again by leather sheets.

                Monterey and Zipper calmly looked behind them and saw the couple on the floor.

                "Luceeeeeeeeeelle!!!" said the bat lady.

                "Looks like our cue t' leave, Zip," said the mouse to the fly, as he stood.

                "Monty—wait—" gasped the chipmunk, bristling and flattening his ears once more.

                "Oh, Dale, what kept you?" asked the verspetilionid, while nuzzling his left cheek. "I fell asleep, but I then had the most wonderful dream about you!!" She then tried to kiss him, but he kept his face down.

                "Um, Foxy, I—I couldn't find the surprise. Sorry I took so long. Now, uh, could you get off me please? Monty! Zipper! Wait!!" He saw that they were already heading for the entrance. The murid stopped, turned, and asked,

                "What's up, mate?" The sciurid flinched at that word again. He tried to look up while dodging his wife's lips.

                "Is—is there any lunch left? I'm really tired and hungry and I didn't stop to grab anythin' to eammmmmmmmmmmmffffff!!!!" They tongue-wrestled for a moment, but only one had romantic thoughts, while the other tried to keep the battle away from the right side of his oral cavity. The mus and the musca smiled.

                "Well, we already 'ad lunch, but don't worry, mate! We'll go t' the kitchen 'n fix ye somethin' up moighty quick!" With that, the two left the couple alone. The pipistrell was just about to invade the tamias' right cheek pouch, when she broke off the kiss, and pleaded,

                "Dale, forget lunch. Just for today, please forget lunch!!!" He could have, if he tried, but it seemed that the monster wanted *him* for lunch. He kept his eyes down,

                "Foxy, my back is killin' me for real this time!" he groaned. Once again, Foxglove put her hormones on hold. She sat up a trifle and echosounded his back.

                Ouchie.

                "Oh, Dale, I'm sorry! I didn't know I tackled you so hard!!!" The bat lady scrambled off her husband and helped him get to his foot-paws. Gently, she began massaging his back, but wings were not very effective for that. The chipmunk didn't know if the monster was now trying to find the correct spot for breaking his back completely. He then remembered that this was his wife, not a monster.

                "Zowie, Foxy!! You should play for the Giants!!" he chattered, rubbing his back himself. The chiropterid then hugged her husband and nuzzled his left cheek.

                "Cutie, I'm sorry, really! When I heard you coming up the stairs, I lost control again. But then, something strange happened to me. As I flew from the bedroom, I naturally echosounded you, but as I approached, for some reason I felt like sweeping you up with my tail membrane and pulverising you with my teeth—"

                Dale suddenly broke the hug and began backing off in a most frightened manner.

                "—but then I realised it was you so I corrected my approach just in time—well, almost. I didn't know I was flying so fast. I was aiming for your shoulders, really!" The rodent somehow managed to calm down a trifle.

                "Well, I—I just hope it doesn't give us problems later on," he said. There was a tone of annoyance that Foxglove could very well hear, so she lowered her head and drooped her ears and tail. That expression was one that not even Dale could withstand, and it caused *his* ears and tail to droop. He held her shoulders and continued, "Aw, Foxy! I'm not mad at you! It was an accident. With a little ice, it should be gone by tonight—" He mentally bonked himself when he realised what he just said. Foxglove's ears, head, and tail perked up with tremendous anticipation when she heard that, causing *his* ears and tail to stiffen again. Trying to look away from her face again, he stuttered, "I mean—it should be gone—the pain should be gone—later—it just should be gone—um——I need food." And he turned away and padded to the kitchen with a slightly higher speed than normal.

                Monterey turned to look at Dale while he stood next to the oven. "Well, that was quick," he winked at him. Dale flinched again, and quickly sat down.

                "Um—no, Monty—we just—just—what's for lunch?" The mouse's moustache curled up,

                "Somethin' moighty romantic for ye, Dale lad! Toasted acorns———with chocolate!" He then set a very large helping in front of the chipmunk, just as the bat lady came in.

                For one instant, the world around Dale disappeared. 

                All that was, and all that is, and all that would ever be, would be him and chocolate.

                His ears perked up.

                His tail became a blur.

                His eyes glazed over.

                His nose filled itself with the aroma, sending shivers all over his body.

                His mouth drooled uncontrollably.

                And his palate tingled.

                The murid wondered if that was what he looked like when he got one of his cheese attacks. Zipper, Foxglove, and he watched in awe as the sciurid gobbled up the food in front of him with an incredible speed.

                "Well, I'm glad to hear that this is still normal," said the chiropterid, quite dryly.

                "Don't worry, this is sure to put him in a romantic mood!" replied the dipterid. Foxglove thought for a moment, and then had an idea. When Dale finished his plate, his eyes returned to normal, and slowly, his senses began reconnecting to the every day world around him. He managed to focus on a monster standing next to Monterey and Zipper, and the monster was holding another plate of chocolate and acorns. His eyes widened in fright, but again, she mistook it as passion, and didn't notice his ears flattening again.

                "You got me hungry again," she said, trying not to giggle. Instead, she tried to sound disinterested, "So, I guess I'll take a plate to the room." She then put on a worried expression, "Oh dear, I just hope I don't spill any on myself! That would be just really clumsy of me! How would I *ever* get chocolate off my fur?" she asked, trying to sound stuck-up.

                The chipmunk just looked at her. His heart was racing, but it wasn't because of passion.

                "I mean, just think of it, Cutie. Can you imagine what I would look like if I had chocolate on me? What would we ever do then—oops." The "oops" was quite clearly fake, as she deliberately spilled a drop or two on her abdomen. "Oh, no. Now look at the mess I made!" she put one wing on her head and tried to sound upset with herself. Then, with the ultimate "come hither" eyes, she softly asked, "Dale, can you help me clean up, pretty please?" Then, with the ultimate whisper, she cooed, "……Luceeeeeeeeeelle……"

                "I don't think we should be watching this," said Zipper.

                "Or 'earin' it," added Monterey. Never taking her eyes or sonar off Dale, Foxglove padded provocatively out the kitchen. The fly and the mouse turned and saw a chipmunk who appeared to have just seen a ghost, a banshee, a zombie, a vampire, a demon, a mummy, a werewolf, and a living disembodied hand right in front of him.

                "Pally? Ye okay?" Dale snapped out of his panic and looked at his friends.

                "Um, yeah, I'm okay, Monty. I just kinda—got lost in the moment." The murid and muscid looked at each other with sly grins. Zipper turned to the sciurid and quipped,

                "Don't keep her waiting." And with that, the two left the kitchen to hint at Dale that his privacy would be respected. Snapping out of his fright once more, Dale knew what he had to do. He squeezed his cheek pouch with both of his paws, and expelled the item into his mouth. He had to work quickly before the taste activated his natural defences and made him throw up right there and then.

                He swallowed the piece of raw ground pork he had smuggled in his cheek pouch.

                Almost immediately, his stomach began to churn. Raw protein and fat was something that herbivores were just not meant to digest. He hoped this plan would work. Quickly, he went to the refrigerator, grabbed the milk cup, and downed it as quickly as he could. Nauseous, he put the cup back, and closed the refrigerator.

                He waited a moment.

                He burped slightly.

                And his stomach began to disagree with him. With a sigh, he raised his ears and tail again, padded out of the kitchen and headed for his room. He was halfway there when his ears and tail drooped again and his head began to spin. When he grabbed the doorknob, he closed his eyes, and waited for the dizzy spell to subside. It did, but not totally.

                "Dale? I *really* need your help cleaning up here!" cooed his wife, from behind their bedroom door. The sciurid opened the door. Odd, that monster looks and sounds a lot like Foxglove—

                Carefully, he entered the room. And he had to do it carefully, for it seemed that with every step he took, his stomach got more and more upset. PAIN was now filling his abdomen. His stomach was not only disagreeing with him, but it was downright arguing. The verspetilionid looked/echosounded at her mate. Strange, his stomach appeared to be bubbling, and his fur was bristling all over and had somehow taken on a slight greenish tint.

                "Dale, is something wrong?" The rodent was about to reply, but suddenly he shut his mouth because he had to use every ounce of strength to keep from throwing up. If he did, then the discomfort would subside within the hour. If he could manage to keep his lunch down long enough, it would prolong his illness—

                "Dale?" asked the chiropterid again, with more concern now, approaching him. A light spasm caused Dale to flinch and hold his stomach.

                "Uh—HMP!!—Foxy—I'm—HMP!!!—okay—I need—need—some—water—" Another dizzy spell made the room blur. And another spasm jolted his stomach again. He couldn't look up anymore, and his legs were losing strength. He sniffed left and right, looking for a bathroom—bathroom?

                Where was he going again?

                Oh, yes, the kitchen. He turned and padded back into the hallway.

                "Dale?" she forgot all about her chocolate fantasy and followed her husband. Halfway down the hall Dale was leaning against the wall to keep from falling down. His stomach contents suddenly shot up his œsophagus, but he quickly swallowed, closing the only outlet they had, sending them back down to his stomach. It reacted by sending spasms all over his abdominal and intestinal muscles, sending him to the floor, clutching his abdomen as if he was giving birth.

                "DALE!!!" yelled Chip and Gadget, entering the hallway from the opposite end, at the same time Foxglove ran out of the bedroom. They rushed up to him, and tried to roll him on his back. He was locked in a fœtal position, and his abdomen was twitching erratically.

                "Dale, what happened??!!" chattered his best friend, looking at him with ultimate fright. Ears flattened all around. The bat lady saw/heard her husband on the floor, but what was most peculiar, is that she heard arrhythmic muscle contractions all around Dale's abdomen. And with the way his face was twisting with each spasm, she knew he was in intense pain. Moments later, Zipper and Monterey arrived to see what was going on.

                "Pally!!"

                "What happened to you??!!" Slowly, Dale opened his teary eyes. There were blurs in front of him, but one blur reminded him of a monster. He would have screamed again, but the spasms prevented him from taking a deep breath. His breathing, instead, was short and ragged, and consequently, so was his speech.

                "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggghhhhhhh———————guys————I————think————that———m—maybe————aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!————th—the acorns———werrrrrrrrrrrrre!!!!!———a little off!!! Uuuunnnnnnnngggggggghhhhhhh!!!!!!!"

                "'Ere, pally! Lemme take ye t' yer bed!!" The mouse was about to pick him up, but suddenly the sick chipmunk yelled,

                "NO!!!" Stunned, everyone looked at him questioningly. Dale winced again, and continued, "Th—the couch——pleeeeeeeze!!!" Monterey looked at the bat lady, who looked/echosounded at the other chipmunk, who just shrugged at this request. With a shrug himself, the mus picked up the sick tamias and carried him to the couch. Once there, Dale tried to curl up on himself as tightly as he could. Monterey looked at his leader and exclaimed,

                "Chip, lad, it couldn't 'ave been the acorns!! I picked them meself!! 'Sides, didn't we *all* eat them at lunch?"

                "You know, Monty, that does sound odd." At that moment, Dale's stomach tried to empty itself one more time. This time he wasn't quick enough to swallow, but he managed to keep the acidic material inside his mouth and outside his cheek pouches. With the ultimate expression of disgust, he swallowed it all up again, making his throat and œsophagus burn. Still, everyone was able to smell the material, so they instinctively backed off. His wife, however, decided to stand behind the couch, looking/echosounding at him, and wincing in unison with him as she heard his muscles spasm.

                "Well, it looks like one bad acorn got away," said Chip. "Dale, do you want us to take you to the bathroom?" The Comedian tried to focus on the blob with the bomber jacket.

                "N———no——I——can handle it———" *Strange,* thought the Detective. *Any healthy vertebrate reflexively vomits almost immediately when it eats bad food——meaning that Dale isn't as healthy as we thought he was!!* Suddenly he turned and exclaimed,

                "Gadget! Call Doctor Qandlier! Tell him Dale's got a severe case of stomach pain, possibly food poisoning, and he can't get rid of it!!"

                "Right, Chip!!" The mousemaid ran to the cell phone she had in her workshop. Meanwhile, the others continued to check on their friend.

                "Dale, are you sure you don't want to throw up?" asked the bat lady. "It kinda smelled like you did!" The sick chipmunk was running out of excuses.

                "C——can't!!"

                "Maybe we should give 'im a good dose o' castor oil!" suggested the mouse. "Or somethin' that will brin' all that bad stuff out. We'll go t' the medicine cabinet 'n see what we can find." Mouse and fly ran/flew to the bathroom, having just added more fright to the sick rodent. If they gave him castor oil, there would be no way of containing his stomach contents. The other chipmunk continued to question his best friend,

                "Dale, are you sure it was the acorns? We all ate some! Did you eat anything earlier?"

                "N——o," he moaned, shoving his stomach contents down again. And that was true; he didn't eat anything since breakfast. Chip, meanwhile, didn't know what to think about this. Reflex should have caused him to expel all of his stomach contents. There was obviously something wrong with his digestive tract, but his convulsions showed that the stomach *was* trying to empty itself, but something was blocking it, and he couldn't possibly be swallowing it all over again.

                "Dale, please, let us take you to the bathroom and we'll try to get it out!"

                "C——can't——HMP!!!——won't——go out!!" he lied. Foxglove placed her wings on Dale's head and abdomen, feeling totally helpless. His head felt fine, but his abdomen was burning. She was about to suggest something else when Gadget, Monterey, and Zipper ran/flew back into the living room.

                "Guys, I'm going to take the Ranger Wing and fly Doctor Qandlier here. I'll be back as quickly as I can!"

                "You do that, luv! 'N tell the doc t' bring some castor oil, too!" The Inventor dashed to the hangar. "Funny thin'," added the Adventurer as he watched her leave, "we don't 'ave anythin' 'ere t' trigger vomitin'." The Acoustics Engineer then turned to him and glared/echosounded at him with intense anger,

                "That's because the rest of us finished it up!!!" The two rodents and dipterid looked at the chiropterid with surprise, while the sick one looked up questioningly at her. She had never got angry at Monterey before. "You and your cooking!" she continued to shriek, "We try to be polite and eat what you cook because there's not much else to eat around here! True, sometimes you make great stuff, but almost ALWAYS you have to put cheese on things!! Monty, we know you love cheese, but there are others who live here who don't like it as much as you do!!"

                "But I didn't use cheese in the acorns!!" he pleaded, raising his paws.

                "No—you didn't," she hissed. "Monty, we all love you, and we wouldn't say anything that would hurt you, but you wouldn't believe all the times when right after we finish, we have to go to the bathroom to throw it back up!!" Realising she was blowing up at him, she calmed down a trifle, and looked away from the males. "Monty, I'm sorry. But it's just that——well——we're all different animals here, and not everything that you make is something *everyone* can eat!" Chip, understanding Foxglove's outburst, explained,

                "But Foxy, Dale's a chipmunk, so he *eats* acorns by instinct, just like you eat moths! And he's conditioned himself to chocolate!" Crying, she looked/echosounded back at the mouse,

                "But, are you sure you didn't put something in the acorns or chocolate? Something that may have caused this?" Monterey desperately thought for a moment, and replied,

                "No! There was a lil' oil in the toastin', 'n the chocolate fudge's the same one Dale eats all the time, 'n 'e always finishes it *months* before it's expiration date! If there 'ad been somethin' in it, then at least *Chip* would already be on the floor as well!" That was true. Zipper asked Dale again,

                "Dale, are you *sure* you didn't eat anything else?" A few spasms later, he lied again,

                "No——" Chip thought for a moment. There was only one option left.

                "Well, it looks like one bad acorn got away," he sighed. Monterey sighed as well, and his ears, tail, moustache, and broad shoulders slumped. He padded up to the couch, and knelt beside Dale.

                "Pally, I'm sorry." He took off his flight cap and put one paw on Dale's shoulder, as he sadly apologised, "I really did try t' pick out the bess' ones at the market, but——but—maybe my eyes 'n nose aren't what they used to be." Dale was feeling pain, but now it wasn't just in his stomach. Foxglove, however, seeing and hearing Monterey's reaction, suddenly cried,

                "Oh——oh no, Monty!" She padded around the couch and knelt beside him. "I—I'm sorry I blew up at you! We really don't know what's going on, so maybe it wasn't your fault! And even if it was, it wasn't intentional!!" Monterey's ears, whiskers, and tail lowered like never before.

                "No, lass, yer——yer right. Maybe I've been thinkin' only o' meself recently—"

                "Not——your——HMP!!!——fault!!" moaned Dale. Now he was manipulating the feelings of his friends. The mouse's ears and tail suddenly stiffened while his whiskers stayed down. He stood up straight.

                "Well, we'll make sure about that! Come on, Zip! We 'ave t' check the chocolate fudge and the ress' o' the acorns t' make sure that wasn't it!" The fly saluted and flew with him to the kitchen.

                "Odd, we got the acorns yesterday…" he buzzed. There was nothing else to do for except wait for the doctor. Foxglove and Chip waited with Dale on the couch, occasionally holding his paw or shoulder. Dale would constantly be throwing up, by reflex, but he would always be pushing it back down. The amount of content was beginning to decrease as the stomach now began to empty into the small intestine, which Foxglove could hear quite well. Twenty minutes later, Gadget came back with a middle-aged chipmunk who was wearing a white lab coat and carrying a black paw-bag. They ran into the living room, and looking at the three, Doctor Qandlier said,

                "Well, it's obvious who's the one with the food poisoning." He padded over to Dale, and as he took his pulse and temperature, he also began questioning,

                "When did this start?"

                "Right after he had lunch, about half an hour ago," replied the bat lady.

                "Yes, toasted acorns with chocolate, as Gadget told me," he commented. "Has this happened before?"

                "N—no," replied the patient.

                "Has he tried to vomit reflexively?"

                "Yes, but he can't," replied Chip. Dr. Qandlier forced Dale's mouth open and stuck a tongue depressor in it. Strange, he could smell gastric fluids in Dale's mouth. He asked,

                "Dale, did you swallow an acorn whole? Maybe one is stuck trying to go back up your œsophagus." Having his mouth open, Dale struggled as he fought the urge to vomit, this time because he would have done it right in the doctor's face. The doctor released him just in time, however. After the urge subsided a trifle, he thought for a moment. Perhaps that could be a way out.

                "I——I think I did——" He might have too, but he knew that wasn't the real problem.

                "No bad acorns 'ere," said Monterey as he came back in the living room.

                "And the chocolate fudge is fine. Oh, hello, Doctor Qandlier," added Zipper. The elder chipmunk turned for a moment to acknowledge the two.

                "Hello, it's nice to see you again, though I would prefer it to be under more pleasant circumstances. Now, if you say that there's no bad food around, and Dale didn't *eat* any bad food, my best theory is that Dale swallowed an acorn whole."

                "Hmm, 'e did eat that plate kinda fass' there," thought the mouse out loud, rubbing his chin. The doctor continued with his theory,

                "That, and something probably got stuck from the frying pan, or something fell into the plate. It triggered the vomit reflex, but the stomach can't expel its contents because the acorn's blocking it." 

                "Really?" asked the pipistrell, and she tried to echosound her tamias' œsophagus. But even with her highest frequency at full volume, she could only echosound down to his sternum. "The acorn's probably stuck at the opening, just behind his chest bone," she said. The doctor asked again,

                "Dale, do you feel pain in that area?" In a flash, he glanced around. Everyone was looking/echosounding at him, everyone was worried about him, Monterey was blaming himself for his charade, Foxglove had probably forgotten any romantic thoughts—

                "Yes," he lied.

                "I was thinkin' o' givin' 'im castor oil, but we don't 'ave any." The doctor sighed and looked sternly at the mouse.

                "Mister Colby, that is probably the worst thing you could have done at this point. That may have caused the acorn to drop from the œsophagus to the stomach, but then he would have immediately tried to vomit again, with a much greater force. If the acorn had got stuck again, the œsophagus could have ruptured." Ears flattened even more, and everyone's blood, including Dale's, pooled at their foot-paws.

                This stunt of his *could* have killed him.

                "I suggest you try to make him as comfortable as you can, and let the stomach digest the acorn as long as possible. He'll have to sit this out and not eat or drink anything while the rest of his digestive tract processes and separates the bad stuff. Wait twenty-four hours, and then give him plenty of fluids, especially citrus juices, but no solid foods. Foxglove, check his œsophagus every eight hours to see at what rate the acorn is dissolving, then when you don't hear it anymore, get him back on solid food again. And Dale," he turned to the downed chipmunk with slight disappointment. "*Gnaw* your food ten times, and chew it twenty. You shouldn't have any problems then." He stood, and gathered his instruments. He looked at the Detective, "Well, if there are no other sick mammals or insects here, I would like to get back to the clinic." The Inventor snapped out of her fright,

                "Oh! Sure, let me take you back, Doctor!" She took the chipmunk back to the hangar, where they prepared the return trip. As soon as they left, Chip stiffened his ears and tail as his fright was replaced with anger. He looked down at his best friend, and chattered,

                "Dale, if you weren't sick, I would bonk you. Try to be more careful while eating, will ya?" Dale felt even more terrible than before. Noticing this, Foxglove stroked his headfur, smiling a trifle. The Detective then stormed to his room, but he was barely into the hallway when he suddenly turned back and padded back up to the couple. "Oh, I forgot. We came back from the RAS with a small load of equipment. I was about to ask you two to help us take it to Gadget's workshop," he looked momentarily at his own bandaged paws, "but I'll guess that will have to wait. And also, the RAS gave us a tip of what appears to be a psychotic owl nesting in a park in East Staten Island."

                "An—an owl?" asked the Acoustics Engineer in instinctive fright, as her ears and tail showed. She crouched down lower beside her husband.

                "Yes. They've been getting reports that the owl is attacking prey beyond its normal predatory limits; 'killing for pleasure', they say. It's been happening on and off, but lately it seems to have increased——maybe it's because it's Halloween season." The chiropterid bristled and stiffened her ears and tail when she heard that word, but the rodent apparently didn't notice that and continued, "We're going to start redirecting avian and small mammal traffic around the park after sunset and before dawn. Foxglove, we'll need your help with the bat grapevine to spread the word to avoid that park, especially during winter. Without prey, the owl should leave the area and try to nest outside the city. The RAS is checking with the Strigiform Councils of New York and New Jersey to see what they know about that owl, and what we all can do about it."

                "I'll—I'll check with Otis, then," she said, calming down a trifle. She hated Halloween, basically because it reminded her of her past, but even more because for some reason humans thought that bats were associated with evil. Why couldn't they also think the same thing about armadillos, or "shells", as they were known to all of Chiroptera-dom?

                "Good. Now, take care of your husband, okay?"

                "Okay." Chip left, and only the mouse and fly were left with the couple.

                "Come on, Zip. 'Elp me prepare a nice citrus concentrate mix for our pal."

                "You bet!" Right before they left, the verspetilionid called out,

                "Monty?" The murid turned and asked,

                "Yes, lass?"

                "Again, I'm sorry for blowing up at you. I was just—so frightened—and it wasn't your fault—and—"

                "Say no more, lass. All is forgiven." Both of them smiled now that this incident was put behind them, and his ears were raised again. As the mouse and fly left the couple alone, the mouse began yet another rant, "That owl better not cross this mouse's path! Why, I remember the time I wress'led an African vulture in Zimbabwe 'n I left the bloke featherless…!" The chipmunk then spasmed a trifle again, and pushed down another load, causing him to close his eyes tightly. When the pain subsided a trifle, he slowly opened his teary eyes.

                And saw a monster looming above him.

                This, of course, caused him to gasp.

                The Halloween reminder didn't help much, either.

                The monster then reached down and prepared to rip off his head—

                "Dale, it's okay!" cried Foxglove, caressing his head. "I'm here for you! I'll always be here for you! I'm not mad at you at all! You just—scared us all so much—" The bat lady sighed and looked/echosounded up, much to Dale's relief. "Dale—I haven't felt this scared since last May when we—when you—when Fat Cat kidnapped me and I thought we were all going to die!" Tears flowed freely from her eyes, as she now sobbed, "Then, when you said it was best to let me go—and wanted me to live with the bats—" she shook her head, "—Dale, the thought of losing you—" she looked/echosounded down at him again, seeing/hearing fright in his eyes and face as well, "Especially now, when we've just begun our lives together!! If you had—died, Dale, I don't know what I would have done!!" Tears now fell on the tamias' face, and they mixed with his own. He pushed down another load.

                "Foxy—I'm—HMP!!—sorry—so—sorry—" The pipistrell covered him with her wings and she placed her head on his chest, sobbing,

                "Don't ever leave me, please—don't ever leave me—so glad you're okay—!"

                Maybe he should try something a trifle less hazardous to his health and everyone else's feelings.

                Dale didn't get up from the couch for one week, except to go to the bathroom. Foxglove urged him to stay in the bedroom, but he refused, saying that he didn't want to risk vomiting on the bed or on her or in the room, thus giving the impression that he was still placing the others above himself. She didn't care, of course, and even though she knew they couldn't get romantic, she just wanted him by her side, and the couch was simply too small. He suggested that she could now sleep upside-down like a bat is supposed to, finally, thus "giving her a break" from the "sacrifice" she made by sleeping horizontally. Once again, she thought that was nonsense, but her mate's reasoning was convincing. She, too, noticed that the Comedian was being suppressed, but the Klutz was now becoming the dominant part of his personality. Of course, she remembered her promise to be one with him, Klutz included, so she decided to bear with this setback. Sleeping without constantly hearing or smelling him did help her fight her Fall Fever, for a while. The patient did follow the doctor's orders and remained on a liquid diet. But what the rest didn't know, besides the fact that there was no lodged acorn in his digestive tract, was the fact that the worst of the symptoms faded away after the first day. Dale now took the time to "reset" his digestive tract, despite his own instincts to eat as much as he could before winter arrived. Then again, he had skipped so many hibernation cycles that it wasn't that difficult for him at all. Nor was it difficult for the rest to believe that he was still sick if he voluntarily didn't eat acorns or chocolate. It was easy, however, since they kept those away from him.

                All the trees were leafless now, and a thick blanket of snow covered the ground. And Dale was running and jumping across the tree branches, trying to find some way of escape. But there was no escape. The Batmunk was snapping the trees like toothpicks, and flying over hills when it felt like it. The branches trembled with each stomp the Batmunk made, forcing the chipmunk to stop and grab on tightly and wait for the branches to stop moving and the snow to stop dropping from the higher branches. He resumed his flight—

                WHAM!!!!

                The tree in front of him was reduced to splinters when the Batmunk stepped on it. The tamias lost his footing and fell to the snow. It was SO cold that his metabolism began slowing down. There was no feeling on his stiff ears and tail now. He tried to run backwards, but his body was molasses now.

                The Batmunk looked down.

                "**DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY……!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**"

                Its voice boomed through the whole forest, shaking the snow off all the trees, and nearly burying Dale in it. He angrily shook off as much as he could, and despite the difference in size, the sciurid was now clearly angry with this mutant. His fur bristled.

                He had enough.

                "Hey, you big dummy! What makes you think I'm your dad??!!" The hybrid glared down at him, and it appeared to have got even angrier. The rodent's shoulders drooped in fright. "Uh———I mean——did Nimnul do this to you? Because——really——Foxy and me don't have cubs——yet——and——" The monster lowered its head and GROWLED, making Dale's viscera vibrate like the jackhammer did. "And——and——I'm a Rescue Ranger!!——I can——uh——help you!! We all can!! Just calm down a bit and I'll see what——" The monster opened its mouth, but stopped growling.

                "**DADDY…………………WHY………DID………YOU…MAKE…ME…THIS…WAY?????!!!!!**"

                Or so Dale thought.

                Suddenly, the pieces of tree and branches that were between the two shattered, as if they were made of glass and someone was shooting at them.

                Then the snow began exploding away, as if it was being blown by a gale force wind, but no wind was coming out of the Batmunk's mouth.

                The snow blew off him.

                And he suddenly felt himself vibrating like a jackhammer—

                The monster was using his echolocation powers for destruction.

                The chipmunk tried to run, but no muscle would respond because of the vibration. He felt like a jackhammer, a church bell, and a tuning fork all at once—

                His body began stiffening, as if it was turning into glass.

                He felt as if he was about to shatter into a bazillion pieces—

                And then his entire abdomen EXPLODED—

                "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

                Dale sat up on the couch, panting. That nightmare of his was beginning to get *really* old—

                "Dale??!!" The fact that there was no light in the living room didn't help Foxglove's appearance very much.

                "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he repeated, as the monster suddenly showed up next to him. The bat lady winced for a moment, and unstopped her ears again.

                "Sorry, Cutie. But when I heard you scream, I flew here as fast as I could! Did you have another nightmare again?" Calming down, the chipmunk replied,

                "Yeah—yeah, another one. I wish I could remember them now—" Suddenly, both stiffened and lowered their ears when they heard growling coming from—from—

                Both looked/echosounded at his abdomen for a moment, and then laughed as they relaxed their ears and tails.

                "Sounds like that acorn's finally gone!" she chuckled, causing the rodent to stop laughing. He knew he couldn't keep up this charade forever.

                "Um—gone? Are you sure?" He knew that was a bad question the moment he asked it, for now the chiropterid pulled his covers away, knelt next to her husband, and echosounded his abdomen with her highest frequency.

                "Your entire tract is empty, Cute Stuff!" she happily exclaimed, perking up her ears and wagging her tail. "You're okay now!! Let's go back to the bedr—" No, he couldn't be okay yet.

                "But—but—how can I be okay if I still feel terrible?" The pipistrell raised an eyebrow.

                "Still? Are you sure? I don't hear a fever or headache on you. The acorn's gone, and so is everything that was with it!" The tamias looked away from her eyes and toward his abdomen, still with low ears,

                "I—I don't know what's wrong this time, Foxy, but I tell you—I still feel sick!" The bat lady thought for a moment. Perhaps Doctor Qandlier's theory wasn't correct to begin with.

                "Cutie, if you still feel bad, despite what the doctor told you to do, then I think you should go in for a check-up." 

                Oh no.

                "A—a—a check—" His wife stood.

                "Yup. In fact, we shouldn't waste anymore time. I'm going to fly to the clinic right now and get you an appointment first thing tomorrow morning! Then the doctor will find out what's wrong, and we'll be able to take care of it! And once you're fine—" She leaned over and GAZED into his eyes, "We'll be able to—continue, won't we, Darling?" The chipmunk couldn't look at her. He just couldn't—

                "Um, of course!" he stuttered, leaning as far back into the couch as he could. Foxglove looked/echosounded quizzically at him. He was nervous, yes, but not nervous-with-anticipation, more like, nervous-with-

                Fear?

                "Dale—Cute Stuff—I'll be right back," she said, quite confused, wondering what he was afraid of, if they both knew that the nightmare was just that, a nightmare. She straightened up and padded out the door. Dale didn't watch her leave as was left alone again. He stared blankly as he analysed his problem. 

                Now how was he going to get out of this one?


	6. Vier

VIER  -  THE DOCTOR SHOULD KNOW

                The sign on the door read, "Dr. Socorro Mapache – Geneticist". Certainly not someone who practised general rodent medicine, but Dale needed to do this. A few minutes earlier, Doctor Qandlier had given him a clean bill of health, but he wasn't about to tell that to Foxglove, or to the rest of the Rangers. Luckily for him, they believed him when he told them he wanted to go to the clinic by himself because he was tired of just sitting on the couch. Seeing their suspicious expressions, he knew it was a stretch, but they believed him and let him go alone. They couldn't know the real reason he was here.

                Not yet.

                Except he might just tell them that his claws had grown back, so his bandages had been removed, which meant that Chip's could also be removed. He had a lot of time to think about this last night, on his way to the clinic, and during Doctor Qandlier's check-up. Perhaps, just perhaps, the answers to what he was so afraid of were inside this office. With his ears up, he slowly opened the door, and looked inside.

                The office was empty.

                Looks like he came in at a bad t—

                "May I help you?" The chipmunk yelped and jumped when he heard a deep female voice behind him. Whirling around, he saw a female raccoon in a white lab coat glaring down at him. Regaining his breath, and trying to straighten his ears and relax his tail and back fur again, Dale replied,

                "Uh—Doctor—Doctor *May-pachee*?" rhyming with "Apache". The raccoon lady lowered her ears and sighed as her name was mispronounced for the NTH time.

                "*Mah-PAH-tcheh*," she corrected, and quickly muttered under her breath, "I should have stayed in Panama." Then to Dale again, "So, what can I do for you, sir?" The rodent nervously rubbed his paws in front of him and stuttered,

                "Um, well, I would like to know a few things about mixed-species couples."

                "Oh? Anyone you know?" she asked, perking up her ears and padding to her desk. He turned to face her, still rubbing his paws, and with low ears,

                "Well, yeah……me and my wife."

                "I see." The omnivore sat down and picked up a pen with her left paw. "And your wife is a…?"

                "Bat." The rodent padded to her desk and sat in front of her, now just holding his paws.

                "Ah, interesting," she commented, as she wrote something down. "You know, I think I remember a chipmunk and a bat getting married earlier this year. That wouldn't happen to be you two, would it?"

                "Uh, no!! Not at all!" He suddenly jerked up straight. He couldn't spill the beans, not now. "We aren't from New York, we're from—Texas." The Comedian hoped to be partially correct. He really hated lying. The Doctor didn't seem to notice this.

                "Ah, I see. So what would you like to know?" Dale phrased the question in his head for a moment, and finally asked,

                "Well, first off, what—what are the chances of me gettin' her pregnant?" The procyonid eyed the sciurid for a moment, deep in thought, and replied,

                "Well, the chances of pregnancy lower according to how far apart the two species are, taxonomically speaking. Let's say you two are healthy and everything is in perfect working order. If she were a chipmunk, then, during springtime, the chances of getting her pregnant would be 100%. If she were a *ground squirrel*, the chances would be around 90%. If we move to prairie dogs and tree squirrels, then the chances would be less than 65%. Moving to other rodent species, say, a mouse, jerboa, or vole, it would be less than 50%. I would include beavers and capybaras, but I trust that you're a decent rodent?"

                "Oh, yes! Very decent!" he blurted, lowering his ears and blushing though his fur, and somewhat stunned at the sudden question. She stood and then sat on the side of her desk,

                "Very well. We'll stick to species your size. As you can see, even if you stick within the Rodentia Order, the chances of pregnancy lower as you move away from the Tamias Genus while still remaining inside the Sciuridæ Family. The Muridæ, the mice, would give you plenty of trouble. Seeing that you married *outside* the Rodentia Order into the Chiroptera Order, *Micro-Chiroptera*, apparently, I would say that the chances are less than .1%." If there was anything Dale dreaded at this point, it was any number that wasn't a zero, no matter how close it was to it.

                "Less? So you're not saying that there's a totally zero chance of her getting pregnant?"

                "Well, I wouldn't say a 0.00000% chance, which would only happen if you didn't do anything, but I doubt either of you would like that arrangement. Furthermore, you seem perfectly capable," she replied, smiling. The Comedian blushed again, and the Doctor noticed that, so she decided to stop teasing him.

                "Um, Doctor, I heard that it was impossible for one species to get another species pregnant, unless they were really similar, like a dog and a wolf." The procyon cocked her head a trifle, and replied,

                "Well, a dog and a wolf are both Canis species; they're both of the same genus: Canis familiaris and Canis lupus, so there things work out fine. If your mate was another Tamias species, say, a long-tailed chipmunk, you wouldn't have any problems. If your mate was a prairie dog or a flying squirrel, you would have cubs, but the cubs would be sterile. The same goes if your wife had married a flying fox. It's also a common misconception that all combinations outside the Genus and Family would result in nil pregnancies. That's because in Noah's Ark there were a lot fewer species than was thought at first. Just look, out of eight humans, you have now six billion, all different. The same is with the animal species: Noah may have brought in only one pair of wolves that bred into all the Canis species we know today. In those cases today, what's considered a 'mixed-species' breeding is actually two different types of the same original species coming back together, resulting in fertile offspring. However, what we've found out is that while there *are* impossible pregnancies when Class, Order, and Family are different, most of the impossibilities are due to size, and when the combination is of different Classes, like trying to mix a mammal with a bird, reptile, fish, or insect. But some pregnancies *are* possible between species of different Families. For instance, pregnancies between cats, Family Felidæ; and skunks, Family Memphitidæ, are more common than you'd think. Naturally, the hybrid offspring are always sterile in those cases. But do keep in mind that they're both within the Order of Carnivores. You're a rodent, and she's a chiropterid. That's two different orders." This was leading the tamias to the inevitable conclusion. He fidgeted,

                "So—what you're sayin' is—that I *can* get her pregnant?" The raccoon lady gave a chipmunk the once-over again, and replied,

                "Well, since you seem so full of energy, I would say that you have a higher chance than normal. Of course, I would have to run tests on both of you to give you the exact chances—"

                "Uh, NO!" he burst, stunning her momentarily. "Um, we—won't need those," he added, calming a trifle. The last thing he needed now was for Foxglove to find out what he was getting into. The omnivore eyed the rodent suspiciously, but decided to continue,

                "So, as I was saying, the pregnancies that *do* occur, of course, differ from normal same-species pregnancies, and even more when the taxonomic Family is different, and *still* more when the Order is different. You see, when there is a case of chromosome aberration—that's 'mismatch', for you—the genetic material doesn't mix. What happens is that once conception occurs, either the male or the female genetic material prevails and cancels—destroys—the other, and then cell division is triggered, resulting in a perfectly healthy embryo. The embryo will develop into either species of the parents. Sometimes a little of the cancelled genetic material manages to remain, thus you'd have an offspring with—let's say in your case—either a bat with dorsal stripes, or a chipmunk with grey or reddish fur, according to the bat species. However—" She stood and padded around her desk, "that's IF the embryo manages to implant itself. Now, if the mix *does* happen and a Family-hybrid is conceived, like the cat-skunk, the offspring is sterile." He was now seeing it clearly. As things were right now, it was doubtful a pregnancy would even occur, but there was one more matter he needed to know about.

                "Ummm, are there any chances that—that even with the mismatch because of our different Orders—the genetic material—*will* mix?"

                "Resulting in an Order-hybrid? Good question." The doctor sat on her desk once more, hugged her knee, and explained, "The chances of an Order-hybrid are even lower than, say, one in one million. If that happens, the chromosome aberration usually results in huge chaos within the embryo, and in most cases, the embryo dies before it can even try to implant. Most couples won't even know that a pregnancy was about to occur." The non-zero number was there again, and it was really annoying him now. He insisted,

                "But what if it *does* implant itself?" The procyonid eyed him once more. He certainly seemed eager to know *every* possible outcome. She wondered why the sciurid and his mate didn't bother seeing her before they got married.

                "*If* an Order-hybrid embryo manages to implant, and those are *very* few, it usually dies before the pregnancy carries to term. All the internal organs simply don't know where to go. And of the few of *those* that make it to term, the offspring dies during birth because it's too traumatic of an experience. They don't even survive a cæsarean. And of the few of *those* that survive that, the offspring usually dies before its first year. It's almost as if the offspring knows it's a monster, and it knows that everything in it is totally wrong. The offspring practically *wills* itself to die." Dale looked down when he heard that. "Once the parents look at it, they very often think it made the right choice. The few Order-hybrids that make it to that point aren't something that you'd find in a horror movie." He looked up at her as the raccoon lady sat behind her desk again. Her ears were low as well. "They look a lot worse. And no matter how much medical care they receive, they simply don't survive. That's why you don't see Order-hybrids that often, much less *monster* hybrids. It's nature's way of keeping the species lines well defined." She then leaned closer to him, and looked at him eye to eye. "Sir, I've been in medicine for ten years, and I've known others who have been doctors for five times that. *I* haven't seen an Order-hybrid. And my colleagues, all of them put together, have seen less than ten, in all the years they've been practising. And none of those Order-hybrids made it to their first birthday. I probably won't see an Order-hybrid for another ten years. If you're worried about producing an Order-hybrid, well, you can stop worrying. You're more likely to win the New York State Lottery, *three times in a row*, mind you." She sighed for a moment, leaned back again, and concluded, "Sir, in all of animal medical history, there have been no cases of any 'monster' hybrid running around. There have been plenty of offspring of mixed species, Genus-hybrids and Family-hybrids, but very few Order—monster—hybrids. Once again, you'll most likely have a bat or chipmunk offspring, but not both combined." The chipmunk looked down again. So, maybe genetics wasn't the problem. "Did you wish to know anything else?" He looked up, with slight disappointment in his face, and slowly raised his ears.

                "No—no, I guess that's it. Thank you, Doctor." He hopped off the chair and padded to the door. Socorro swivelled her chair away from him and looked at the ceiling.

                "You're welcome. I hope that info helps you—————Mister Oakmont." Dale suddenly gasped and whirled back at her. His ears and tail were stiff again.

                "How did—how did—you—??!!"

                "Know?" She turned to him again, "Mister Oakmont, the Rescue Rangers are among the greatest small mammal heroes, along with the RAS. Your exploits, and your collaborations with the RAS, especially those dealing with medical emergencies, are quite well known in the medical community. Just last week, you and the RAS made the front page in all the small mammal press, and I'm sure that the *Small Animal Medical Association Journal* will do a feature on every rescue team that helped in that collapsed building, but more especially on *you*. I was in Washington at the time, but everyone kept talking about you and how you mobilised the other rescue teams to action. Furthermore," she opened a drawer and took out a certain edition of the *Fur and Feather Journal and Picayune*, and she showed him a very familiar picture in the Social section, "your wedding was in all the papers. You became the envy of every single unattached male mammal in New England, not to mention Foxglove became the talk of the night all over the ultrasound frequencies, and *she* was the envy of every single unattached female mammal as well. And your marriage has been the topic of conversation all over the genetic science community." She then put the newspaper down and looked straight at him, with straight ears this time. "Mister Oakmont, many animals would trade anything to be in your position. I, personally, have admired you since you came on the scene. I hang around Dr. Qandlier's office whenever I can just to hear what else you've been up to, and I've offered to assist him with you in any way I can. Mister Oakmont—" her voice was now a lot softer, "—you don't have to be afraid of whatever child you two produce. If a pregnancy occurs, it will result in either a bat or a chipmunk, but not a monster hybrid. And *if* you happen to get one—well, it's very doubtful it will survive before it's even born. If you two suspect a pregnancy next spring, believe me, I'm at your service to follow it every step of the way. Dale," her eyes and ears were sad, for some reason, "you don't have to be afraid." Dale looked down again. He, too, was sad, as his features showed. He looked back up at her,

                "Thanks. Thanks a lot." He slowly turned, but then she added,

                "Don't worry, Dale. Since this was a consultation, I'll keep to myself this visit of yours. However, if any of the other Rangers comes asking questions, you know that I *will* have to tell them what we talked about in here." For a moment, Dale was relieved, but her last statement cancelled that feeling.

                "Oh. Well, thanks anyways, Doctor." He padded outside and closed the door.

                No, this couldn't be happening. Genetics had nothing to do with this. 

                Why was he still afraid?

                What was he afraid of now?


	7. Fünf

FÜNF  -  THE DODGING GAME: EXERCISE

                "Dale, are you sure this is what he prescribed?" asked Foxglove, looking/echosounding up at Dale. She and her husband were in the gym, which was above Gadget's workshop and beside the hangar. Once again, she was disappointed by the fact that he was wearing clothes, but even more so that was wearing even *more* clothes than usual, which affected her hearing a trifle. Her mate now donned his workout suit: a yellow headband and tank top, white wristbands, and orange shorts. Why on earth he wore that was beyond her.

                "Of—course!" he replied between breaths, as he ran on top of an old turntable which now served as a treadmill. "He—found out—in the check-up that—I had built up an—excess amount of—fat—for the winter, and—since we don't—hibernate—anymore, he told me—to get rid of it— by doin' this!" That seemed logical enough, although she had other ideas on how they both could get some exercise.

                "Well, okay, Cutie, but why do you have to wear all of that when you're exercising?" She asked this more out of curiosity than out of naughtiness. But she really did hate it when he wore clothes, especially now. The tamias didn't flinch because the question didn't sound naughty to him either.

                "It helps us sweat—and thus burn more fat—and the headband keeps the fur—out of our eyes—and the wristbands—gather the sweat—that comes from our pads!!" Well, the pipistrell had to admit that he did have a point. "And—most important—they make us look cool, don't they?" She looked/echosounded at him. She had to admit that he did sound cute, that, or the fact that he wore clothes simply left a lot to her imagination.

                "Okay, Cutie, but are you going to take long?"

                "I hope not—it's just until—I get my fat layer—down to its—summer level." Her eyes displayed a pleading expression,

                "No, I mean, are you going to take long today?" Oh dear, she was asking that again. His ears fell back.

                "Um—I might—I mean—I don't know—look—don't worry—when I finish—I'll be in great shape—and—and—" He really didn't want to say this, because it would only increase her expectancy, but there was no way around it, "I'll—I—won't get—uhh—tired so quickly---umm—with you!" The chiropterid's ears perked up and she managed a naughty smile.

                "Well, Cutie, I never really noticed that you were getting tired too quickly. I fact, I think you've done great so far! I really don't hear how this will improve things." The rodent had to think fast again.

                "Well—just think—I'll be in better shape—than before!! Less tired—means—um—more time—uh—for more fun—I guess!" The pipistrell smiled suggestively again, and then took to the air. Moments later, she hovered next to her husband, on his left.

                "Well, now that's the best idea I've ever heard," she cooed in his drooped ear, making him flinch. He almost lost his rhythm as he stumbled a trifle, but he quickly recovered. "I'll go help Chip and Gadget with the RAS equipment they brought. And once we're done, we'll spend the night in each other's company—Luceeeeeeeeeelle……" She softly kissed his left cheek. It was quick, so Dale didn't have time to dodge it, but that didn't keep his conditioned reflex from making him flinch away from her. This time he did trip and fall on the turntable, and centrifugal force threw him off and he smashed his back against a wall.

                "DALE!!" she squealed, landing beside him. The tamias slowly brought himself to a sitting position, and upon seeing the monster in front of him, he looked away from her.

                "Uhhh, it's okay, Foxy—I—I just slipped—" He suddenly jerked away from the monster because she bent down and was about to grab him—

                Foxglove froze in position as she looked/echosounded at him again, this time with downright confusion. Why didn't he want her to help him get up? And the look on Dale's face was one of—

                Terror?

                "Um, Cute Stuff, I'll—I'll go help Chip and Gadget now," she stuttered, turned, and padded away.

                "Hey, wait, have you talked to the bat grapevine?" he suddenly remembered, turning to her. She stopped and turned to look/echosound at him again.

                "No, not yet. Chip needed more information and the approval of the Strigiform Councils. The RAS should have relayed it to him now." Yes, the perfect excuse for her to leave!

                "Well, go ask him if he has it, then." The chiropterid looked/echosounded at him again. Did he actually *want* her out of here?

                "Uh, of course," she replied a minute later. She turned again and left him alone in the gym. Dale slowly stood, and sniffed her scent again. It reminded him a lot of the night mists, and of course, there was that unmistakable tinge that declared what her current condition was. But instead of bringing him to her, it was downright repelling him.

                It scared him now.

                Why was he so afraid of her?

                Or was it even *her*?

                It was interesting how much Foxglove managed to get done today. The other Rangers looked in awe as she helped unload, sort, and catalogue all the equipment the RAS had given them in exchange for the blueprints, prototypes, and licenses Gadget gave them. The bat lady didn't carry extremely heavy things, but she did work non-stop, thanks to her stored energies. Dale eventually joined in, but for some reason, he seemed to be working opposite her, not together. If she was in the hangar unloading equipment, he was in Gadget's workshop. If she was in the workshop, he was in the hangar.

                Once the work was done and they all had lunch, they remained at the table, as Chip stood, lowered his ears slightly, and said,

                "Guys, this is something you all should know. The RAS received information about that owl from the Strigiform Councils of New York and New Jersey. It seems that the owl, a female, and a former member of the New York Council, was expelled some time ago for trying to impose sick and twisted views concerning predators and prey. She's been known to fight and kill owls and other predatory birds who've disagreed with her, but the Councils have only been able to get insanity pleas to fight against her in the higher animal courts. So far, they've only been able to institutionalise her, but even the mental institutions have agreed that she's beyond help, though we as Rescue Rangers don't know that for sure. The bottom line is that she has detached herself from all contact from her fellow predators and has nested in East Staten Island Park. In fact, she has been in that park for quite a long time now. When she has stayed put, her hunting has gone beyond that of a normal predator, and it's now just wanton killing she's doing, and on the occasions she has left it, she has caused heaps of problems for both predator and prey. The Councils would have let her be and let her kill all the small mammals she wanted, but last week she got into a fight—and killed two owls—one of which happened to be a member of the New Jersey Council, and the other was a candidate for the New York Council. Both Councils have removed all loyalty and protection from her, as well as her standing rank in the Official Food Chain. And in an unprecedented move, they've allowed the RAS, and any other small mammal rescue and animal law enforcement organisation, to defend themselves from her in any way possible, guaranteeing that there will be no retribution from their part or from any other predatory animal." The Detective sighed for a moment, and resumed, "That very much means that we, the Rescue Rangers, have the authority, permission, and *blessing* of the New York and New Jersey Strigiform Councils to—to *kill* that owl lady—if we're defending ourselves against her." The Rangers hushed completely at those news. Ears were lowered where applicable. After a pregnant pause, Gadget commented coldly,

                "We're *Rescue* Rangers. Our job is to *rescue* others, not to kill them." She very much knew first-paw the pain of death, and she wasn't about to let it happen to oth—

                "Suppose we're rescuin' ourselves, or another animal, from that owl lady," said Dale, looking at her with an expression and tone of voice not seen or heard since the night of Foxglove's kidnapping. "And the circumstances become so extreme that we have no other choice but to kill her?" The memories of what happened last May were still fresh in his mind, as well as Foxglove's,

                "Dale—"

                "And what if they don't?" retorted the Inventor. "What we *could* do is try to rescue that owl lady from herself—"

                "But just gettin' close to her would be riskin' our lives. If she doesn't listen to reason and attacks—"

                "We subdue her and escape," finished Gadget, now getting quite upset. Fur was bristling on both sides. "We don't give her permanent injuries, not even if—"

                "If she attacks *Chip*, and is about to swallow him?" asked the Comedian, coldly. The others quietly gasped at that question. Gadget had clearly questioned Dale's behaviour when he rescued them from Fat Cat, and now he had thrown her argument right back at her. Flashbacks of the argument they had when Foxglove stole Gadget's translator were running through everyone's minds, except Foxglove's. But now, it wasn't clear whether this argument would end that peacefully. The mousemaid slowly put her paws on the table, and looked at the chipmunk,

                "Dale," she took a deep breath, "last May, you were under a lot of pressure. Besides being caught off-guard—just like the rest of us—you were about to get married. You had that curse over you. Everything fell on you at once and you were overwhelmed to the point of *fainting*. You weren't—"

                "Thinkin' straight?" he challenged. "You're sayin' that I was so angry I was out of my mind?" On the sidelines, the bat lady's anger was slowly being replaced by worry as she heard her husband battling her former roommate.

                "Dale, your anger impaired your judgement," shivered the murid with frustration. "You had every right to be angry and maybe those circumstances were such that they made you say what you did—"

                "And if I could have killed him, I would have." Once again, the sciurid's face darkened as it did last May. "And if he *does* come at her again, I *will* kill him. He can't and *won't* be stopped by any other means." Everyone looked/echosounded at him again. The determined face was unmistakable.

                "Now, pally, you muss' realise that these are two extremely diff'rent cases," explained Monterey, as soothingly as he could. "If you 'ad gone 'n killed Fat Cat, the Carnivore 'n Feline Councils would be all over *ye*. Fat Cat's not the only evil feline around, ye know, 'n 'e 'as plenty o' friends 'n 'igh places. 'N since *yore* not evil, ye'd 'ave 'is death on yer conscience for the ress' o' yer life, *'n* beyond. Fat Cat can be reasoned with, well, maybe juss' a trifle, but it still counts. 'N 'e's *still* under the protection o' 'is own kind. Now, this owl lady 'ere isn't after yore wife, 'n if she ne'er sees 'er she'll ne'er go after 'er. I don't like the idea o' 'er peers givin' us their permiss'n 'n blessin' t' kill 'er if we need to, either, but if she can't be reasoned with then we do 'ave to protect ourselves *and* 'er from 'erself. But what's moss' important 'ere is that *ye* can still be reasoned with." Silence again. The chiropterid tried to extend her wing across the table to hold his paw, but he was out of her reach.

                "Dale, you're a *Rescue* Ranger," she said, in her most soothing voice, though she was still a trifle upset herself: at herself, for what little she did to avoid the kidnapping; at Fat Cat, for the kidnapping itself; at Gadget, for this argument; and at Dale, for the attention he *wasn't* giving her. "Do you think you can *try* to rescue that owl lady from herself?" She even raised her ears in an attempt to soothe his anger. The rodent, however, looked at his paws and thought for a long moment. Finally, he looked up and spoke,

                "I'm a Rescue Ranger, and yes, rescuin' is my job. I will do whatever I can to rescue that owl lady from herself, but I *also* have to do whatever I can to rescue *others* from her. Gadget, perhaps I may not have been thinkin' straight in Fat Cat's hideout, but keep this in mind: We have rescued many animals and properties from Fat Cat. We have done all we can to reason with him and make him see his errors. Last May he was about to kill you all, and he even ignored Chip's offer to sacrifice himself for the rest—for *you*." The Inventor's heart stood still for a moment as she remembered that incident, forever burned into her memory. She glanced at her love for a moment, not wanting to even imagine what would have happened if Fat Cat had taken up on that offer. "If I hadn't shown up, he would have killed every one of you, startin' with Foxglove." His mate's ears drooped again, while Gadget looked down, still trying not to think of what would have happened to Chip—to the one she *knew* she loved. Dale continued, "That would have been the signin' of his own death certificate. None of us know if he's already passed the point of no-return, or if he hasn't, but if he keeps it up, then his death is around the corner, and it won't necessarily be my doin'. And, I doubt that any council will be able to stop it or take revenge afterward. He may have friends in high places, but he also has plenty of enemies there, too. As for the owl lady, the Strigiform Councils have declared that she is *already* beyond the point of no return." He looked at his female friend again, "Gadget, I pray that we don't have to face her under extreme circumstances, but we have to be ready if we do. And I pray that neither you nor any of us ever find ourselves under the circumstances I was under that pushed me to make the decision to kill. It's—" his voice cracked for a moment, "it's not a nice feelin' at all. A lot of ugly things will need to happen to both us *and* her before we're pushed into makin' the Final Decision, just like they happened with me and Fat Cat——so pray that we'll be able to stop them before we reach that point."

                "Those things will *not* happen," declared Chip, with a stern voice, glaring at him. "Because we and the RAS are going to do all we can in order to avoid them. All animals will be warned to avoid East Staten Island Park. Tabs will be kept on that owl lady, and if she moves to another park or extends her hunting area or schedule, the same warning will go there. The best we can hope for is that the owl lady will leave the city and return to a feral condition in the forest. There, without the shelter of the city, she'll have plenty to worry about for her own survival. And if she dies, it will not be by our paw. We will now find Otis and send the warning to Staten Island. Dale," he put his now bandage-free paw on his friend's shoulder, "we live and learn. We learned a lot about ourselves last May, and we learned what circumstances need to materialise before we're forced to make the Final Decision. Thank God the Final Circumstance did *not* happen and you did *not* make the Final Decision. Dale, I know it was horrible for you, but please, learn from what happened, and put it behind you. With what we learned, we'll make sure *none* of us goes through what you did, *ever*." He gave Dale a very pleading look, pleading him to be the fun-loving Comedian everyone knew. "Dale, you're *not* evil. Don't do this to yourself." Dale looked at him for a moment, relaxed his ears, and sighed,

                "Very well. But let's all pray that your plan works. 'Cause if it doesn't, then both we *and* the RAS better have a back-up plan—*and* an explanation to the victims' families." With that, he got up, and padded back to the gym. The Rangers looked/echosounded stunned at him as he returned upstairs. Chip's heart bled for his best friend. Dale had once been faced with the choice to kill, and now, that option was once again open. Certainly old wounds had been opened today, and now they needed time to close again. So to begin the closing of wounds, Chip and the others would need to prevent the Final Decision from materialising. He turned to his best friend's wife and said,

                "Foxy—I—I guess you should send the warning to Otis and the other bats now." He then told her the basics of the message.

                "S-sure, Chip," she replied, stunned, upset, and confused, as she left the table. She, too, felt pain for Dale, and even more because last time, *she* was the cause of Dale's pain; it had been *her* fault for being part of what made him seriously consider the option to kill. Her wounds were open as well, but perhaps giving everyone a chance to cool off, and maybe having a little intimacy with just her and Dale, would be enough to put this new option out of everyone's mind. As she padded outside and prepared to find her friend, Chip decided to go to his room to find a book to get his mind off this topic. He was interrupted by the most beautiful mousemaid on the planet, who suddenly stood and hugged him as tight as she could, almost as if she was afraid he was some sort of dream that could vanish in an instant. Naturally, his brain did a few loops, as did his heart, but logic eventually found its rightful place,

                "G-Gadget? What's this for?" Her beautiful blue eyes met his beautiful dark-brown ones,

                "It's for you still being *here*—for being here *with* us—with—with *me*…" No more words were needed, and she just placed her head on his shoulder, letting her nose fill itself with his scent. The chipmunk, understanding, returned the embrace.

                Since the unloading and cataloguing took quite some time, lunch was a trifle late today, and the discussion took plenty of time too, so when Foxglove looked/echosounded at the sky she saw that sunset was starting. Otis and the other bats should be up now. So, she took to the air, hovered, and faced north,

                "This is Foxglove Yegoleh of Oakmont, calling the Ultrasound Network with a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers. Any bats in the vicinity, please respond." She had to speak loud and high, but that was no problem for her or bats in general. In fact, the USN was what helped gather every able-bodied bat in New York last May to help her and the Rangers rescue her from Fat Cat. She allowed ten seconds for her message to reach the nearest buildings and echo back to her, but with no response. The chiropterid faced south and called again, "This is Foxglove Yegoleh of Oakmont, calling the Ultrasound Network. This is a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers with immediate relay needed for Staten Island. Does anyone copy?" Still no reply. She faced east, "Any bats in the area, this is a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers. It needs immediate relay to Staten Island. Is there anyone available?" Silence. With a sigh, the verspetilionid faced west, "This is an urgent USN Class One request. Any bat, this is a Class One message!" Maybe it was still a trifle too early. She decided to get some exercise herself and flew around the tree for about thirty minutes, eating a few insects now and then. After that, she didn't feel exhausted, due to her condition. Maybe a trifle wound down, but she wasn't panting. Furthermore, she wasn't that upset or angry anymore about that discussion at the table now, and was even looking forward to returning to Dale's side. Still, the sun had set so Otis and the other bats should already be up now—

                And she was a bat.

                A *female* bat.

                In the middle of *autumn*.

                And while she may be married, as the ring around her thumbclaw proclaimed, that may not necessarily be enough to deter any male bat who might have questionable intentions. Why, any male bat could take one whiff from her from across the park and fly straight to her and grab her and begin to kiss her and—

                She shuddered as she threw that thought out of her head. If she was to have fantasies of that sort, she preferred them to be of her husband; not of any male bat who may happen to be flying around with the wind blowing through his fur accentuating his rippling pectoral muscles and returning a sonar echo that would—

                She shuddered again.

                She faced north and tried again, hoping that a female bat would hear her ultrasound call.

                "This is Foxglove Yegoleh of Oakmont, calling the Ultrasound Network with a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers. It needs immediate relay to Staten Island. Any bats in the vicinity, please respond." Ten seconds later there was still no response except her own echo. The pipistrell turned south and—

                "Foxglove? This is Otis, responding to the USN Class One message request! What's going on?" She cringed for a moment when she heard Otis' deep and soft voice, which for some reason tingled in her ears, but she quickly returned to the matter at wing. Judging from his wave amplitude, he was probably three blocks from the park, and he wasn't downwind, thank God.

                "Otis? This is Foxglove. Chip requested sending an immediate message to Staten Island. Is there a relay available?"

                "Hang on, let me check." She waited several seconds, and then Otis added, "I'm setting up a relay right now. Any place in Staten Island in particular?" Well, Chip said East Staten Island Park, but it would be better to alert all of them.

                "All parks and their immediate vicinities, with priority to East Staten Island Park. This is a message from the Rescue Rangers with backing from the Rescue Aid Society and the Strigiform Councils of New York and New Jersey. Class One."

                "Wow, it must be really important. The USN is clearing a path for it right now and silencing all other traffic. You can start the message on my mark—" He waited until he heard the final "ready", and he repeated, "Ready!" to her. Foxglove cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and began,

                "This is a Class One message from the Rescue Rangers and the Rescue Aid Society to all animals in all parks of Staten Island, with priority to all nocturnal animals in East Staten Island Park. All avian, mammal, and reptilian traffic is to be diverted from East Staten Island Park and its surrounding area due to a deranged predator in said park. The Rescue Rangers, the Rescue Aid Society, and the Strigiform Councils of the States of New York and New Jersey have received and acknowledged reports of a female owl engaging in aggressive behaviour that is beyond all predatory instinct. All traffic is to be diverted from the air, trees, and surface of East Staten Island Park starting from one hour before sunset to one hour after sunrise. Any animal passing through the park between that period will do so under his/her own risk of being caught and eaten. Warnings are to be posted in all accesses to the park. There will be no armed escorts through it of any kind unless it's impossible for the park to be circumvented. All underground traffic must pass non-stop under the park. All other animals must be notified of this and have their paths corrected accordingly. If the owl lady attacks outside her present hunting range or hours, or if she moves to another nesting site, contact the Rescue Rangers or the Rescue Aid Society immediately. End Class One Message. Sender ID: Rescue Rangers c/o Rescue Aid Society, with approval of the Strigiform Council of the State of New York and the Strigiform Council of the State of New Jersey."

                The bat lady waited a moment, and then she heard Otis reply,

                "Okay, the message is being relayed through all the USN in Staten Island. That's very serious stuff, isn't it?"

                "That's why it's a Class One Message, Otis. We're hoping that the owl lady leaves the city."

                "Don't worry, we'll keep an ear out for it. Say, how's Dale?"

                "Oh, he's—his usual self," she lied, but she wasn't about to pour her heart out to Otis.

                "Well, I'm glad to hear you two are happy together. Maybe you can bring him along to the Wake-Up Festival next spring?" The Acoustics Engineer cringed again. Right now she wasn't sure what the condition of her marriage was—

                Or what the situation would be next spring. In fact, she wasn't sure if she would rather stay out here and keep talking to Otis while hunting for insects and just listen to his deep soft voice—

                Shudder.

                "Um—I'll—I'll talk to him about it. Thanks for the help, Otis."

                "Hey, anything for the Rescue Rangers and the most admired bat lady in all of the Chiroptera Order! Have a good hunt, Mrs. Oakmont!" Otis signed off. His reminders of her marital status got her fantasies straightened out, for now. She hunted insects for a while, until she heard other bats approaching, at which she made a beeline for home.

                Foxglove waited patiently in the bed, or as patient as she could get, considering her condition. It was actually just waiting, without the patient part, mainly because she couldn't get comfortable, either by sitting down, lying down, or hanging from her perch above the bed. She already had her shower for today, and while it had been a busy day, her body begged for more action.

                And Dale was still in the gym.

                Why was he all hyperactive all of the sudden? Didn't he know he could burn plenty of calories with *her*? Then again, she was hoping that all the exercise had calmed him down. His reactions at lunch very much scared her. The thought of actually *wanting* to kill another living being, and *wanton* killing at that, in a non-predatory fashion, was bad enough, but killing someone and just leaving him/her to rot on the cement or pavement as an act of *hatred*…

                She thought that Dale had already put behind him the night in Fat Cat's hideout. She herself had pushed it as far back in her mind as she could, and concentrated on her relationship with him, and even more now when her Fall Fever was at its peak. Perhaps that was what Dale needed to put that experience behind him once and for all. Tonight, they would have a little heart-to-heart talk about what was still bothering him, she would then give him a few suggestions, and then they would have a long night of love to forget all their troubles.

                What the Purgatory was taking him so long?

                She got up and was going to go to the gym and drag him to the bedroom—

                The door opened and Dale entered. Then he closed the door again. The bat lady smiled and padded over to him and was about to take him to the bathroom—

                "Lucee—"

                She stopped when she saw, heard, and smelled the chipmunk with the Hawaiian shirt.

                "Cutie, did you shower already?" she asked, quite surprised, perking up her ears, and an eyebrow. After a few seconds, the tamias mumbled, as he padded to his drawer and dropped the sweaty workout clothes he was holding,

                "Mmm? Oh, yeah, I did." He removed his shirt, opened a drawer, and pulled something out.

                "Dale, why didn't you shower here?!" asked the pipistrell, nearly demanding.

                "'Cause the other bathroom was closer and I was really tired." Well, the chiropterid couldn't argue with that kind of logic. But she nearly did start arguing with him when he yawned and started putting on his nightshirt.

                "Um, Cute Stuff, are you still upset about—about what we talked about after lunch?" A few more seconds, and the rodent sighed,

                "Well—no. It's just that it reminded me of—of what happened—and *nearly* happened to you————to *all* of us—" He trailed off as he laid on the bed and pulled the covers over him, away from her. "I wouldn't wish that on—on—well, right now I don't know if Fat Cat should feel what I felt that night, just to make him see what he's causin'. But we all have to realise that not every bad guy can be reasoned with. Some have lost all their morals, and there's no other way of dealin' with them—if they will stop at nothin' to kill someone. I really don't want it to happen, but there's a chance that—yaaaaawn—that either the RAS or us will face somethin' quite extreme. I hope Chip's plan works, for our sake, and the owl lady's." Foxglove climbed on the bed and snuggled behind him. "And I wish that somethin' like that had been done to Fat Cat a long time ago—" He trailed off while his wife continued,

                "Cutie, you don't have to worry. Chip discussed that plan with the RAS as well, and we all are going to do what we can to rescue that owl lady from herself. But now, Dale, I just want you to stop thinking about that, and think about kinder, gentler things—like me!" She giggled provocatively. "And on the kinder, gentler things that you can do with a kinder, gentler one like myself! And then, we'll move on from kinder and gentler to the REALLY—" The kinder, gentler, and shallow breathing picked up by her ears indicated that her mate was now out like a light.

                She actually growled this time before turning out the light, settling down and eventually joining his slumber.

                Dale was once again jogging on the turntable, but at a more leisurely pace. And again, his wife was standing next to the turntable.

                And she was getting desperate.

                "Dale?" she asked, on the verge of tears, and with low ears and tail.

                "Yes, Dear?" he asked, not noticing that.

                "Dale, I—I know this is what the doctor ordered, but do you have to do it all day?"

                "Of course not! I'll stop the moment we get a new case!" Ouch.

                "But—Dale, what about us?" He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

                "What about us?"

                "Well, Dale, I know that many things have got in the way of our—our relationship, and I know that they're not anyone's fault! I know that they come with the territory of being a Rescue Ranger and I know we all have to make sacrifices—" She trailed off as she sought for a way to break this to him gently.

                "I know. But that's—"

                "Cute Stuff, I'm lonely!" The tamias would have stiffened if he hadn't been running, so he only managed to flatten his ears. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He quickly tried to divert from that topic,

                "L-lonely? But Foxy, we've never left you alone since you came back! How can you be lonely?" The pipistrell took to the air and hovered in front of him, making him flinch and turn slightly away so he wouldn't look at her eyes.

                "Dale, I—we need to spend more time together—time alone—just the two of us—" His sweat wasn't necessarily being caused by the exercise.

                "Uh—well, we're alone now, aren't we?" he stuttered, hoping to get her mind off intimate things.

                "Dale—I don't want to keep you in the bedroom 24/7, but it's been nearly two weeks since—" Suddenly he raised an index digit and exclaimed,

                "Hey, Foxy, I've got an idea!!" The chipmunk was saved by his own randomness.

                "Yes, Cutie??" the bat lady squealed, with an insane grin on her face, ears up and tail in a blur.

                "If you say you've been feelin' lonely—"

                "Yeeeesss?" Her tail swished like never before.

                "Then why don't you work out with me in the gym?" Her ears and tail drooped. "If I'm goin' to be in better shape and won't get tired so easily, then—then you'd just better shape up if you don't want me to wear you out!" The sciurid couldn't believe he had just said that, but only his ears and tail showed that.

                "What?!" shrieked the verspetilionid, somewhat angered, bristling, and stiffening her features. "Are you saying you can keep things going longer than I can even with my condition?" Oh dear, he had just challenged her. But maybe, that's what she needed to keep her mind off her Fall Fever. He only needed to channel that challenge. He stiffened his ears back at her and replied,

                "Um—I sure can!" She frowned and flashed her teeth,

                "Okay, that's it, chipmunk, you get down off that record player and you march with me right to the bed and then we'll see who lasts longer!" Oh no. Divert, divert, divert!

                "B-but—Foxy, you haven't started workin' out yet! I'd be havin' an—an—unfair advantage over you! And really, Foxy, I don't wanna wear you out. And you don't have to prove anythin' to me—"

                *Unfair advantage?????*

                Her expression would have been similar if he had asked her if she could fly.

                "Dale, what makes you even THINK that? All this time I thought I was wearing YOU out!" Even with his inexplicable phobia, that was just plain insulting to him. But he kept going,

                "Well, that's why I'm here now! If you say you can last longer than I can, don't you think I'd wanna do somethin' so I can keep up with you?" Foxglove wasn't sure where this argument was headed, or what the point of it was.

                "Well, of *course* I want you to keep up with me!" The male quickly put on a confused look on his face.

                "But you just said you will last longer than I will!" The female's confused expression was genuine,

                "Uh—I did?"

                "Look, Foxy, why don't you just work out with me—I mean—exercise with me?" The rodent almost panicked at the way that request sounded. "I mean—do exercises with me—I mean—you doin' exercises by yourself—I mean—doin' them here—but with me—" She loved the way he sounded when he stuttered, as well as the way his heart fluttered when he got nervous. And Dale knew that he had just better finish clearing up his request before Foxglove grabbed him and sequestered him to the bedroom. "I mean—not with me—in the same spot—er—machine—er—just do them at the same time—here—uh—like—I would run—and—you would lift weights—or somethin'—" Her nose was too close to his own. And her smile (though more likely her teeth) was causing him extreme fright. "And—then, we'll see who lasts longer!" he finished, much to his relief. The chiropterid wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying as much as just hearing him talk, but that last suggestion snapped her out of her libido for a moment.

                "But Dale, how can I work out? I can't lift those weights over my head, and I can't run on the turntable like you. Maybe I could do some stretching and leg exercises, but the workout I really need can only be done with—oh, I don't know, a wind tunnel!"

                "Wind tunnel?" Both turned and saw/heard Gadget enter the gym. Dale was relieved once more, while Foxglove was about to ask her to get lost, as politely as possible, of course.

                "Oh, hi, Gadget!" he said, smiling. "Come to work out with us?"

                "Well, no, I came here to see what equipment might need improvement thanks to the new stuff the RAS gave us when I heard Foxy mention a wind tunnel?" Her ears were very perked up, no to mention her voice. The bat lady had to get rid of the mousemaid quickly.

                "Sure, Gadget. Dale suggested that I work out with him here, but I really can't do much exercising unless there's a wind tunnel here, which there isn't. But why don't you go with Chip and do some other stuff, like inventing things in your workshop?" Gadget didn't listen to her suggestion because her brain was in the middle of very complex calculations brought by the idea of a wind tunnel. She looked to the ceiling, to a window, to another window directly opposite of it, then she thought of several motors that they had brought, and then of a human-sized table fan—

                "Gadget?" asked the chiropterid, for the third time. With a spark in her eye, the murid suddenly said,

                "I'll be right back. Don't go away!" And she ran out of the gym. The couple looked/echosounded at each other for a moment, and then shrugged, dismissing Gadget's behaviour as normal.

                "Now, Foxy, as I was sayin', there are some exercises you could do here. Um—" The chipmunk thought long and hard for a bit. "Hey, I know! If you can't lift weights above your head, then just try lifting them with your foot-paws!"

                "Huh?"

                "Sure! Remember when we first met? I was a bit heavy for you, wasn't I?" The bat lady giggled when she remembered that wonderfully fateful night,

                "At first. But with all the work we've done so far, I think I can handle your weight with no problem now."

                "Sure, but for how long? What you need is strength *and* endurance, like a marathon runner. Now, what you can do is grab that eight-ounce weight over there and see how long you can keep airborne with it!" The verspetilionid turned to look/echosound at the object in question, which was near the wall. She swooped over it, grabbed it, and began to hover. It certainly wasn't her maximum payload, but it took effort to stay airborne. After some ten minutes, she quickly landed, gasping, ears down. The sciurid saw this, and he explained,

                "That was very good! Now, quickly, grab the four-ounce weight and do the same thing!" His wife did as he told her, and she was airborne for another ten minutes. This time she landed hard, and was gasping even more.

                "Looks and sounds like someone's out of shape here," he teased. "But don't worry, Foxy. Just take a little rest and do some stretching, and then try again with the eight-ounce weight. In a little while, you'll see that you'll be able to last longer and longer and with heavier weights!" The chiropterid padded onto a thin sponge (which served as an exercise mat), laid down, and began doing a series of stretches, while she pondered on yet another change in her rodent: After the night of the kidnapping, Dale's shift in focus between seriousness and comedy included regular sessions here in the gym. In time, he learned several training techniques that benefited the whole team. It made him more energetic, which was vital for *her* this time of the year, but now, it seemed as if he was obsessed by exercise, almost as if he was trying to wear himself out every d—

                Chip, Monterey, Zipper, and Gadget entered the gym. Foxglove turned to them and growled in ultrasound. And Dale noticed that Gadget had a large set of blueprints.

                "Foxy," said the mousemaid, "congratulations. We're going to build you your very own wind tunnel! Well, Zipper can use it too, of course, but that would mean different settings but of course that shouldn't be a problem with this design—"

                "A wind tunnel?" asked the bat lady, standing and padding up to her. "Gadget, you don't need to build one! I really don't need it since Dale gave me a workout routine I can handle and it must be very difficult to build and I don't want you to go through all that trouble for me and—"

                "Oh, it won't be any problem at all! Well, we all will have to work together to build it, but all the blueprints are done and we can build it right here in the gym right now! And the best part is that we can start putting to good use some of the material the RAS gave us! Isn't that wonderful??" Chip loved the way her eyes sparkled when she was hit with a great idea.

                "It sure is!!!" replied Dale, jumping off the turntable and running to the group. "Let's get started!!!"

                The bat lady wept inwardly at this torture.

                It was a group effort, so Foxglove had no choice but to join in. Her previous workout had taken a lot of energy, but again, her condition helped her recover quickly. It took all day to build the wind tunnel, and part of the night, but it was finished. It wasn't as much a tunnel as it was an air passage, though. On one side of the gym, near the very high ceiling, where the window used to be, were the blades of a human table fan. The motor had been replaced with a much more powerful one, which was attached to a digital paw-held control on the floor. On the opposite window, the fan grill was fastened over it. Outside, the air intake/exhaust ports were pointed up and camouflaged with bark and brown and black paint. The exhaust port was fitted with several pieces of metal sheets that would act as "speed bumps", allowing the air to slow down and leave the tree without making turbulence outside. The motor was even fitted with a noise reduction devise that would help muffle the sound. Finally, at 11:34 p.m., Gadget picked up the control, gave it to Chip, and said,

                "Chip, normally I like being the first person to turn things on, but this time, I—I want—I want *you* to do it." Chip's heart raced when he saw her smiling, and blushing. She was letting him take another step closer to her by letting him do something that brought *her* great happiness. He gave her a quick hug and a very light kiss on her cheek, replying,

                "Thanks, Gadget. I know how much this means to you, and—it means the world to me that you let me do this." With one arm over her shoulders, all looked/echosounded up at the fan, and he pressed the power button.

                And with barely a whisper, the fan came to life. The streamers that were attached to it stirred as the wind blew them to a horizontal position. Chip and Gadget looked down and saw the readout in the control:

                15 mph

                "Hey, it worked," said Chip, happily.

                "It worked," repeated the Inventor, somewhat stunned. "It worked." Then suddenly, her ears perked up and she squeaked, "It works!! IT WORKS PERFECTLY!!" Without thinking, she was suddenly in a very close embrace with Chip. Everyone else clapped and cheered at her triumph, even Foxglove, because it wasn't every day when an invention of hers worked flawlessly at the first attempt. Then again, with Chip around, it seemed her inventions were getting more and more reliable. After a while, the murid stepped back to look into the sciurid's eyes.

                And the Detective fell into her eyes, which were glistening with tears of joy.

                "Congratulations, dear Gadget," he whispered. They moved closer, and kissed lightly, after which they embraced again.

                "Isn't that romantic, Cute Stuff?" asked Foxglove, while wrapping her wings around her husband.

                "Huh? What?" A monster was trying to pin down his arms again, and he nearly jumped when he looked at her eyes. "Oh, yeah, it's romantic. Very——yaaaaaaaaaawwwwnnnn——romantic——but it's gettin' late. Foxy, Zipper, you can try it out in the mornin'. Let's get some rest, guys." Without another word, the tamias detached himself from his wife and padded out of the gym. Stunned for a moment again, the pipistrell just looked/echosounded at him, stiffened her features, and then angrily stomped after him.

                "I guess we do that, then," shrugged Zipper, and the rest retired to their rooms.

                But not without everyone getting suspicions that maybe something was amiss in Dale and Foxglove's relationship.

                Foxglove was quite determined to get some action tonight. But as she turned to lock the door, a yawn overcame her, a very powerful yawn. *Whoa, I guess I actually wore myself down today!* And she wasn't the only one. She turned and saw/heard Dale lying perfectly still on the bed, out like a light once more. And her eyes and ears were beginning to close, and her throat was getting hoarse.

                *Okay, Cute Stuff. You win again today. But you'd just *better* get yourself in shape now, 'cause with that wind tunnel to get _me_ in shape, we're going to have LONG nights for now on!* The chipmunk, meanwhile, before he fell asleep, thought that he finally got the right idea for keeping her away from him. Now, with her working out with the wind tunnel, she would be as exhausted as he was at the end of the day, with no romantic desires, or energy, remaining. And he would have time to come up with other ideas in case this plan backfired.

                Which is not to say that during this time the bat lady was getting a few ideas of her own to get some action one way or another.

                Now, which one of them should she try first?


	8. Sechs

SECHS  -  THE DODGING GAME: WHO NEEDS A ROMANTIC DINNER, ANYWAYS?

                From: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us

                To: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us

                Dear Mom and Dad,

                How are you? It's been a long time since the wedding, hasn't it? Are you all busy preparing for hibernation? I've been quite busy too, or should I say, Dale and I have been *very* busy! As you know, I'm a bat, so I'm "busy" during the fall, not the spring as you chipmunks are. But that brings me to my next question. Up until September, Dale and I have had no problems at all. In fact, it seemed that the honeymoon just kept going and going and going! I don't know if any other female bat has felt what I've felt for Dale all this time, especially with my Fall Fever. But lately, it seems that Dale has lost interest. Well, maybe not lost, but just…diminished…I guess. It's really strange because up until September he really didn't have any problems at all in keeping up with me! And all the work we've had here really hasn't helped at all. I'm sure you heard of the building that collapsed and all the work we had to do there, and then he got a bad case of indigestion that kept him away from me for a week! He saw Doctor Qandlier, who prescribed lots of exercise. And he's doing exercise, but in the gym, not with me. I've been wondering if maybe I'm wearing him out, but I asked him that and he said he thought he was wearing *me* out! I know we're newlyweds and it's Fall Fever for me, but I wanted to ask you if his behaviour is normal, or if I'm pushing him too hard. Please write back soon.

                Love, 

                Foxglove

                From: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us

                To: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us

                Dear Daughter,

                How are you and the greatest mammal and insect heroes of the 20th Century? We were worried when we read that Dale had a bad case of indigestion. That was also a surprise for us, since the last time Dale got indigestion was when he accidentally ate some wild mushrooms back when he was still living with us. Dale usually can handle anything you serve in front of him, so this must have been a very rare incident for him. As for his behaviour, well, we find it odd as well. He told us about Gadget before, and there were the times he was dating up here (don't worry, he stayed clean), and he sure seemed full of energy then. Now that he has consummated a relationship with you, things will naturally be different, but Pierre can't believe that any son of his can be worn down by a Fever of ANY season. Foxy, it's natural for males to need more rest than females do, especially for male chipmunks during this time of the year (hibernation instincts), and even more for Dale because he's married to *you*. Maybe he's ashamed to tell you that and he doesn't want to disappoint you or tarnish his performance. Be patient with him and give him time to rest. Since you're starting your married life, it's normal for you to encounter "speed bumps" such as this one. But don't worry. You two are starting out and are discovering each other. Take your time in learning what you both like and don't like. It's also during this time when you both learn where all your "switches" are. Maybe you still need to find a few on him, just like he may find a few you never knew you had!

                Have fun!

                And tell that son of ours to write soon.

                Love,

                Pierre & Dalee

                P.S.:

                (I added this just before we sent the e-mail. Don't tell him I told you, but during our first spring together I actually wore *Pierre* down! – Dalee)

                During the week that Dale was immersed in exercise, Foxglove decided to try an idea one night. Perhaps, with all the activities that were happening inside the tree-house, the atmosphere didn't allow for a prolonged romantic mood. And maybe Pierre and Dalee were right, Dale *needed* a little rest from their marital bliss. But tonight, Dale would think differently. 

                *Much* differently. 

                She winced for a moment as she was setting up the "trap", because her pectorals were quite sore after the workout in the wind tunnel. So far, she found out she could fly non-stop for fifteen minutes at 30 mph *without* eating, meaning she could maintain her cruising speed for seven and a half miles before stopping or needing to refuel. Tomorrow they would find out what her top non-diving speed was and for how long she could keep it up: her "turbo speed". And in time, both rates would increase, in proportion to her muscle tone. It seemed her excess energy caused by her Fall Fever could be used for things other than long romantic nights. Tonight, however, her excess energy would be put to its intended use. And she was determined to learn what hidden switches he had as well. She already knew of one, and it was on the table. Her ears perked up and her tail blurred as she heard the 'munk of her dreams approaching.

                The chipmunk, now showered, wearing his standard Hawaiian shirt, and holding his sweaty workout clothes, entered the bedroom, wondered why it was so dark, was about to turn on the light—

                And was greeted with a very interesting kiss.

                Or so thought the bat lady, because Dale thought that the monster wanted to suck the life out of him again. His fur bristled and his ears fell back, and he struggled a bit as the monster pinned his arms to his sides again—

                This monster tasted suspiciously of lipstick.

                And she smelled different, too. In fact, he was certain she even felt different, because she was now covered with—

                Satin?

                Breaking off the kiss and the embrace, and raising his ears, he padded back to look at the monster—

                Which for some reason looked like his wife, except that she was now dressed in a very nicely cut purple dress, which somehow made her eerie blue eyes glow—

                Eerily?

                "……Luceeeeeeeeeelle……" whispered the monster, for some reason. Foxglove again interpreted his racing heartbeat and flat ears to be the result of a very pleasant surprise. Maybe she should wear clothes and put on perfume more often. To add to his "pleasantness", she decided to kiss Dale's thumb paw again. "Hi there, Cute Stuff," she continued, in her ultimate seductive tone. "I've decided to have both of us forget all the problems we've had and just think of—ourselves—for tonight." The tamias staggered back to the door, ready to open it and bolt out of the tree—

                Too late, his wife whirled him around and locked the door again. He wouldn't have any problems unlocking it, but the problem would be how to unlock it and run out of there without getting suspicious. He was starting to sweat again.

                "Oh, no, Cutie!" said the pipistrell. "Tonight, I'm going to make *sure* you don't want to open that door again!" His audible gulp made her raise an eyebrow and nearly lower her ears herself. "And—and—I've—I've got it all planned for us!" She almost lost her concentration there. "First, we'll start with a nice formal dinner!" Foxglove extended her wings, pointing behind him. Dale turned around.

                And he finally saw the trap.

                A table had been set up in front of the bed. It was semicircular and covered with a white tablecloth. Instead of having two chairs on opposite sides, it had a lover's chair on the flat side of the table. On it, all the food was prepared and ready to be eaten. The moonlight shining through the window revealed a champagne bottle (originally a key chain ornament) immersed in a cup of ice, one large serving of toasted assorted nuts marinated in white chocolate, and one large serving of broiled luna moths with a side of mealworms. On the edge of the table was a single candle (originally a birthday candle), unlit.

                "Courtesy of 'Monterey' Jack Colby," she explained. "I wanted to get a professional caterer, but I didn't want to offend Monty, not after what happened last week." Her ears and tail drooped for a moment, "I—I wanted for him to get his confidence back. He was a bit reluctant in preparing this for us, but I assured him that we still trusted him and that what had happened before wasn't his fault at all," her features perked up again, "and believe me, he was more than happy to do this! And," grabbing his arm, she dragged him to the seat, making his claws rake the floor. "It's *our* turn to be happy," she whispered as she sat him down, hard. At that moment, the rodent was overtaken by the scent of white chocolate. Not noticing his eyes beginning to glaze, the chiropterid padded to the drawer and took a box of matches. As she padded back to the table, she suddenly realised something.

                "Dale, could you please light the candle? I don't think I can hold the match with my wing." The sciurid's inner conflict and inexplicable fright was enough to snap him out of his chocolate attack when he heard the monster's voice—

                "Huh? What?" He looked at the monster who appeared to be ready to set the world ablaze—

                "Light the candle, please?" repeated the verspetilionid.

                "Oh—oh, sure—sure thing, Foxy," he stuttered, sweating more and more. As he stood up, he slammed his knee on the bottom of the table, shaking all the food and nearly causing the champagne to fall over. Immediately, he fumbled the items around, trying to keep everything steady but it appeared that he was just making everything more and more unstable. That was more planned than accidental, but Foxglove didn't need to know that. When he made sure nothing would fall off the table, he carefully stood and padded toward his wife—

                And smashed his toe on the table leg.

                This time, the champagne did fall off, but because it was a plastic bottle, it didn't shatter. The ice did spill on the floor, however. Ears fell again as pained chattering filled the room.

                "Dale!" exclaimed the bat lady, rushing to meet him.

                "I'm—I'm okay!!" he chattered, hopping lightly on his right foot-paw. "I'm—I'm just—clumsy or somethin'—"

                "N—no, you're not," she countered. A sudden fear that everything would go wrong brought sweating and stuttering on her part. "I—I shouldn't have turned out the lights yet! I'm sorry, Dale!" she cried, as she gave him the matches. "Um—just—just light the candle, and I'll clean up. This—this is just a minor set back. But—it's nothing to worry about. Nothing." She stood still and took a deep breath, slowly calming herself down, and raising her ears again. "There. Everything's okay now. Nothing's wrong." She echosounded at his foot-paw, turned to his face again, and cooed unsteadily in his ear, "No—no major damage there. I'll—massage your toe after dinner, and I'm looking forward to it! Perhaps—in the tub, maybe?" Her seductiveness was running smoothly again . "You know, maybe we should ask Gadget to make the tub bigger, or have her convert it to a Jacuzzi?" she asked provocatively, as she padded over to pick up the bottle and the ice cup. The chipmunk bristled at this, and his ears remained flat and his tail still. He had to do something to stop this, but what?

                The female bent down and swept as much ice as she could back into the cup. As she did that, she heard her male open the matchbox and take out a match. She heard the rough swipe and the fizzling as it came to life. The scent of sulphur reached her nostrils, making her wrinkle her nose, but the air would clear itself in a moment. The room brightened for a moment, but she really didn't need the light as she continued to echosound the floor as she searched for stray bits of ice. She then heard Dale pad up to the table and light the candle. Ah, just a few more pieces of ice, and the romantic dinner would continue.

                She heard something topple.

                And slowly the room got brighter and brighter.

                And then sulphur wasn't the only thing she was smelling.

                She straightened up.

                "Dale?"

                "Oh no!"

                The pipistrell whirled around, bristled, and gasped, with her ears falling back again.

                Her husband was staring with fright at the burning table. Suddenly, he tried to set the candlestick upright again, but the way he kept jerking his paw toward it, he was actually making it roll around the tabletop and spread the fire instead.

                "Oh, dear, don't worry, Foxy! I'll put it out in a moment!" he chattered. The tamias continued to poke at the candlestick, and with one push, it fell off. Now on the floor, the flame caught the bottom of the tablecloth and the fire began to expand. "Oh, oh dear!" Smoke was filling the room now, and the fire was getting brighter and brighter. 

                "DALE!!" She was actually frozen with fright; watching and hearing her hopes literally go up in smoke. Panicking a-la Humphrey Bear, Dale just slapped at the flames, fanning them more than quenching them. As the flames rose higher, he suddenly reached toward the bed, grabbed the blanket, and began beating the fire with it, throwing all the food around. This helped a trifle, but the fire was still quite active. It wasn't until he heard Foxglove coughing when he decided enough was enough. He ran to her, snatched the ice cup from her, and threw the ice at the tabletop. The fire fizzled to a cinder, but not without spilling what remained of the food over the top. The water and ice also put out the fire that had started on the floor. 

                And the room was in near-darkness once more.

                Both looked/echosounded at the smouldering table. After a moment, the rodent turned to her and stuttered,

                "Fox—Foxy—I'm—s—sorry—so—sorry—" Coughing, he ran to open wide all the windows while the chiropterid checked the mess to see if anything could be salvaged.

                Nope, all the food had been ruined, except the champagne, but it was doubtful she would be able to get him drunk now. She picked up the charred tablecloth, and tried to wipe up all the cold water. The chipmunk coughed for a moment, and slowly padded up to her, "Foxy—the room's gonna stink for a bit—why—why don't you sleep in Gadget's room tonight? I'm—I'm sure she won't mind—I'll—I'll sleep on the couch—again—I—I guess I deserve it—" He was about to hold her shoulders, but seeing her eyes flash in the moonlight, he backed off again. "I'm—such a klutz—I—I—I'd better open the bathroom window too." The bat lady coughed and wondered why Dale didn't bother to sleep in Chip's room when she was going to sleep in Gadget's. What she didn't know was that Dale wanted to avoid a confrontation with his best friend, who would very likely demand an explanation of this incident. He would have one, but he just needed all night to come up with something coherent. She was left holding the bottle and smouldering tablecloth while her husband ran to the bathroom. She wanted to cry, but anger and frustration were building up insider her besides angst and disappointment. So much was building up that she actually cursed this time:

                *Darn, that didn't work.*

                But she wasn't defeated yet. What was that other idea she had?


	9. Sieben

SIEBEN  -  THE DODGING GAME: THAT'S RIGHT, THROW THE BLAME ON SOMEONE ELSE

                From: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us

                To: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us

                Dear Mom & Dad,

                Help! I'm getting desperate here! Everything seems to be going wrong. I mean, Dale really tries, but it seems as if he's always either too busy or too tired for me. I know that since we're Rescue Rangers we're going to have times like this, and I know he needs to rest in order to keep up, but I'm practically taking two cold showers a day now! Do you think that this could be because of our different species? I know Dale wants to as much as I do, but every time we try, it seems that something goes wrong and he blames himself and it spoils the entire night. Dale is very loving and he always wants what's best for the others and me, but when something goes wrong he *really* brings it down on himself, as if he's trying to carry everyone's burden! Please, is this as species thing, or is something wrong with Dale?

                Love, 

                Foxglove

                From: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us

                To: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us

                Dear Dale & Foxy,

                We're writing a letter to you both because we think it's time for both of you to start working together. We understand if your work leaves little time for the both of you, and if it does, then that's something you simply have to live with. That doesn't mean that you can just totally ignore each other, mind you. A relationship needs to be taken care of, like a garden. A garden won't say beautiful all by itself. It requires careful work and planning. You two need to set apart time for one another, time that would be "off-limits" to the other Rangers, except in an emergency, like the one you had recently with that collapsed building. Dale, it's very sweet that you are taking responsibility for your actions, but remember, you all are a *team*. All of you share responsibilities; so don't try to pile them all up on yourself.

                Young man, I didn't raise no wimp. I know that you can do more than enough to keep Foxy satisfied. I know there's the species difference, but you shouldn't let that be an obstacle. If anything, it should be a challenge, and a *fun* challenge at that! I don't know if maybe you feel overwhelmed by what you need to do, but no son of mine backs down from a challenge, and much less one that involves his natural abilities! Son, you overcame three huge obstacles last May: Fat Cat, our curse, and yourself. You are stronger than what you let on. So I *know* you're strong enough AND well enough AND able enough to keep up with Foxglove. Let yourself go, son! It's all perfectly legal AND moral, remember? Foxy, if he's playing hard-to-get, then you have our permission to drag him to the bedroom if you need to.

                Write back and let us know how you're going.

                Love,

                Pierre & Dalee.

                P.S.:

                Foxy, Dale goes crazy with chocolate, but put him in a hot Jacuzzi and you'll have to drag him out! We took him to Yellowstone's Hot Springs when he was a cub, and that boy wished he could turn into a fish and stay there all day long!

                Her husband would be finished with another workout session soon. He was having so many that now he was exercising with one of his Hawaiian shirts while his workout suit was being washed. Of course, Foxglove's workout was over long before his, because she needed time to plan again, and this time with Gadget's help. She explained to her what had happened with the botched dinner, and the other idea Dale's parents had given her. Gadget, who now had an actual relationship herself, but not at that level yet, saw what needed to be done. So, she was more than willing to help Foxglove with her plan, and it also gave her a chance to try out more new items. 

                Dale, meanwhile, didn't know what he was going to do, now that his parents [grinding his incisors] *lovingly* decided to help them in their relationship. Why did they have to mention the Yellowstone incident? And if that wasn't bad enough, he wasn't sure if Chip really believed the explanation that he gave him for the "accident". But then again, it was Chip who had pushed him into the role of a Klutz, Clown, and Comedian. What had happened that night, he explained, was an accident waiting to happen. He *was* after all, sore from his workout and it was just a trifle hard to move around, and even harder to move *carefully*, *in a nearly dark room*, and even more with a new obstacle such as the table. All that, and his reputation of bringing havoc whenever fragile items were involved, was what caused the disaster. 

                All of that sounded quite logical to Chip, except the Klutz part. Everyone had seen Dale's "clumsiness" diminish from the moment he fell in love with Foxglove, and it took an even sharper downturn after the kidnapping and the wedding. As for the other factors, he was quite sure that all of them combined did indeed raise the hazard factor, but the way Dale insisted on it being a result of his clumsiness was what made Chip start getting suspicious. Or maybe it *was* a result of that. Dale really did seem guilty, and he *did* blame *himself* for the incident, and he also insisted on cleaning up the mess himself. The look on Foxglove's face the following morning triggered a gut feeling, however. And Chip wasn't sure what to do about this situation in particular. Since he wasn't married—yet—he couldn't even suggest offering advice. He knew Dale's parents were already giving them advice, and they could also ask *his* parents, and even Monterey's parents to see what they could suggest, but he wondered if they would be able to actually help. Dale and Foxglove *were* a mixed-species couple. And in a sense, so was Gadget and he, but they weren't married yet. If anything, *they* should be *going* to Dale and Foxglove for advice. Were there any marriage counsellors who were *also* a mixed-species couple?

                He wondered if this was what he was going to have to face if he married Gadget.

                The two females, meanwhile, were finished with the new trap.

                Dale wasn't finished with his workout yet, so he jumped off the turntable, turned it off, and prepared to do some stretching. It was then that his wife entered the gym, padded over to him, bent down, and picked him up over her shoulder. She did this so smoothly and nonchalantly and without even a grunt on her part, that Dale didn't know what was happening until she was halfway out of the gym.

                "Huh? What? Foxy? What—what are you doin'?"

                "I'm kidnapping you, what does it look like I'm doing?" she replied with ultimate calmness. Panic took hold of the chipmunk again, and his features. The monster was now abducting him!

                "K-kidnappin'?" he squirmed, "Foxy, what are you talkin' about? Put me down!" He also didn't like being in a position where his tail was up in the air for all to see, and for Foxglove to hear.

                "Not until we get to the bathroom, Cute Stuff," said the bat lady with a business tone and with straight ears, though her tail was a blur again.

                "Foxy, my tail is up in the air!" chattered the tamias, now slightly angered.

                "I know. And me without a camera!" giggled the pipistrell.

                "Foxy!" he panicked even more. "I need to finish my routine!"

                "Not tonight, Cutie. You can finish up tomorrow. Right now, we're going to have a workout of our own!" Dale had to get out of there, now that it seemed that Foxglove took seriously his parents' permission. He wasn't being dragged, of course, since his claws would prevent that, and it would be difficult for his wife to fly him to the bedroom with the little space they had inside the tree, so this method of transport was obviously her best option.

                "Foxy, I can walk, thank you very much!" he chattered again, now starting to get indignant. He was thankful the other Rangers weren't around to see him like this.

                "Oh, I know you can, Cutie, but you won't need to walk where you're going. I have to make sure you don't waste any more energy than necessary." The verspetilionid tightened her grip on him as she continued padding down the hall.

                "Why? Are you goin' to spoon-feed me my lunch, too?" The sciurid wasn't about to let her treat him like a cub, no matter what his parents suggested.

                "Don't give me more ideas," she growled provocatively, as she entered the bedroom and locked the door. The rodent wanted to escape, but if he struggled any more than he was already, his phobia would be discovered. The chiropterid carried him through the bedroom and into the bathroom, and locked the door there as well. Finally, he put him down—

                And Dale saw *another* trap.

                The tub, originally a plastic water trough for dogs, had been replaced by an even larger trough, and it was much deeper, too. It was on ceramic stilts, placing it right on top of an electric hot plate, which was placed on a small platform above the floor, which was connected to a waterproof switch next to the mirror on the wall. Beside the trough, a small aquarium pump had an air tube attached to it, which led to a small mat on the bottom of the trough. The edge and bottom of the trough were much wider than the plate, and the bottom was lined with a short plastic flap that was lower than the actual bottom of the "tub", an under-rim, so that any water spilling over would fall beside it and not on it.

                "What's this?" he asked suspiciously, as it looked suspiciously like something he suspiciously remembered. She happily clasped her wings in front of her and jumped slightly,

                "It's Gadget's invention. Well, more than invention, it's a set up. You now finally have that Jacuzzi you always wanted!"

                "I've always wanted one?" he asked quizzically, turning to her and raising one ear and eyebrow. He didn't remember mentioning that to her. She smiled at him,

                "Oh, don't pretend you didn't want this! You read what your parents said about you!" Suddenly he realised where the idea came from. His ear and eyebrow fell again.

                "Y—yeah, but that was a long time ago! I learned to live without hot tubs simply because we really didn't need one and there was no way we could have one set up back in the forest!" He waved a paw at it and exclaimed, "There was no need to do this—!" The verspetilionid put her wings on his shoulders,

                "That's why it's called a 'gift', Cutie. Now—" She suddenly pointed her wings at him as if they were revolvers and she hollered, "Reach fer th' skaye, yew varmint!" And she said it with such intensity (thanks to all the westerns she saw with Dale), that the sciurid actually bristled with fright, shot his paws up in the air, and stiffened his ears and tail more than ever, scared for his life because the monster was about to shoot him—

                In a flash, the chiropterid peeled off his shirt, giggling naughtily,

                "Luceeeeeeeeeelle!!!"

                And for the first time, the rodent actually felt naked in front of this monster. He fought another reflex reaction to cover himself, or at least hug himself tight, because if he did that, his wife would very likely ask him what was wrong. The bat lady then dropped his shirt, padded to the switch, and turned on the pump and the hot plate. Air bubbles began to rise from the mat through the water, and the heating coil of the hot plate turned a dull orange. Foxglove adjusted the temperature and stood back, admiring Gadget's handiwork. Slowly, the water temperature began to rise. She turned to her husband and cooed,

                "We won't need to use the heater that much. I know that we will—heat things up on our own—hee hee hee hee!!" The chipmunk wished he were a beaver so he could chew his way through the wall and out of there. The only other exit was the window, but it was too small for him to fit through. He padded away from his wife to look more closely at the Jacuzzi, wondering how he could generate another random event that would be able to get him out of this m—

                He gasped when the monster pinned his arms down again as she wrapped her wings around him from behind.

                "And while the water heats up, Cutie," she kissed his neck, making him bristle even more, "what do you say we have [kiss] some fun [kiss] out here [kiss]?" The monster was trying to bite his jugular vein and suck all the blood out of him. He had to—

                *Fight* his way out?

                What the Purgatory was he doing? This was *Foxglove*, his WIFE, for crying out loud! He had no real reason to reject her, and much less when they were in such a private place! His father's words flashed into his mind again.

                He was no wimp.

                And he was being faced with a challenge.

                A *fun* challenge, at that.

                So all he had to do was turn around, face whatever obstacle was in the way, and have fun until either or both of them fell asleep from total exhaustion. He turned around and prepared to "Luceelle" her himself, and kiss her—

                And he saw a monster's face.

                He yelped, squirmed free of the monster's grasp, and stumbled away from her.

                Foxglove gasped at his outburst, and her ears drooped. Was she actually scaring him? As Dale stumbled back, he bumped on the edge of the tub and fell in, getting his torso and thighs soaked, splashing things a trifle. The sudden immersion also snapped him out of his fright. He looked up, and didn't see a monster, but his wife.

                "D-Dale, what—what's wrong?" she asked, one second away from crying, suddenly wondering if this was going to end up in yet another disaster. Oh dear, now he needed an explanation.

                "I—uh—I—I think—I burned my tail on this thing," stuttered the sciurid. The verspetilionid calmed down a trifle. But only a trifle, because her tail didn't start moving yet.

                "Huh? How did you do that? The only hot parts here are the heater and the water. Are you sure you didn't burn your heel?" She even echosounded his heel, praying that nothing serious was there.

                "Um, no—well, I burned somethin' here," he struggled slightly, trying to get up. "Didn't Gadget test this thing?" Struggling to calm down, she replied,

                "Well, yes, actually, she did. She told me it would work with no prob—oh dear—" The pipistrell stiffened. *Now* she knew what the problem was.

                "Yeah, I know," sighed the tamias. At least he had focused the problem away from himself now. But the verspetilionid wasn't going to accept defeat so easily.

                "Strange. She made sure that this tub was bug free! I mean, any spills are channelled away from the heater, and the pump is nearly all plastic! What could have gone wrong?" The heater was drip-shielded? Darn, he was planning on spilling water on it and causing a short circuit. This he proved by getting up rather clumsily and splashing as much water as he could without being suspicious. She would have helped him up, but they both knew her wings wouldn't be of much help to him. The sciurid finally hopped off the tub—

                And instinctively shook off all the water from himself. Reflexively, the chiropterid covered herself with her wings—

                And heard something fizzle. The chipmunk saw what had made the fizzling sound and continued to shake. In a flash, he scooped some water with his left paw and threw it at the hot plate, right at the small space between it and the tub. Because she was covering herself with her wings, the bat lady didn't see or hear what her husband was doing. She only heard a fizzling sound as the drops of water fell on the heating coil. And then, she flinched as she heard a small splash followed by an enormous spark. It was something akin to hearing a lightning bolt: loud, long, and monotonous. After the noise faded, she uncovered herself to see and hear the heating coil melt slightly, the pump melt as well, and finally all the lights flicker and go out. She also saw her husband cringing away from the tub, as if it were going to explode or something. The bathroom quickly filled with the stench of molten metal and plastic. Slowly, Dale straightened out, turned, and saw the new mess. He then put on his best disappointed take by keeping his ears flat, his tail still, slouching over, turning away from her, and speaking with defeat,

                "I'll—I'll go open all the doors and windows again—and—and I guess I'll help Gadget with the fuses." He grabbed a towel and dried himself off as best he could, picked up his shirt, and put it on again. He unlocked the door, and without even bothering to turn around and look at his wife, the rodent left the bathroom.

                Foxglove just looked at the mess with defeated ears, shoulders, and tail. She simply didn't know what to think now. Was this Dale's fault? Gadget's fault? The RAS's fault? Why did things keep going wrong for them? Or, maybe a combination of all three was a recipe for disaster, but then, if it was, why didn't the wind tunnel blow up yet? Her thoughts trailed off as she heard a conversation,

                "Dale, what happened to the lights? What's that smell?"

                "Um, sorry, Gadget, but—um—your Jacuzzi kinda had a little problem."

                "WHAT? How was that possible? There's no way it could have failed! Did it short circuit and blow a fuse?"

                "It—it looked like it did. But don't blame yourself for it. Foxy—and I—will manage—I guess."

                "NO!! The RAS made *sure* we only got state-of-the-art equipment!! And I quadruple checked all the connections! The only way a short circuit could have happened is if the drain tube had leaked onto the heater, but it's sealed with water-proof glue!!" When she heard that, the bat lady bent down to check that connection. And it was intact. "I'll have to check the whole installation again—"

                "NO! I mean—no—you don't need to do that, Gadget. I'll—I'll dismantle it for you—and we'll—we'll just have to do with a normal tub for now."

                "No, Dale! I have to know what went wrong! How else am I supposed to improve my abilities if I don't correct my errors? And I thought all this time I was getting better, too—"

                "Gadget—Gadget—it—it wasn't your fault—trust me."

                "It wasn't? You mean the RAS gave us defective equipment?"

                "Uhhhhh—maybe it slipped by them?"

                "No, that couldn't have happened. I examined all the materials I used!"

                "Well, Gadget—it—maybe—maybe it wasn't anyone's fault. Not yours, and not the RAS's, and certainly not Foxy's. Maybe it was—it was—an abom—a nominat—an aglomer—uh—what do you call that sorta accident that happens without any real cause? Like a stroke of bad luck?"

                "An anomaly? Do you think it was an anomaly?"

                "Hey, anomalies happen—I guess."

                "Hey, what happened to the lights?"

                "Don't worry, Chip, I'll change the fuses. We just had an anomaly."

                "Huh?"

                "Yes, Chip. Just—an anomaly…"

                "Gadget? What's wrong…?" Foxglove tuned out the conversation, as she pondered on the avalanche of events that were depriving Dale and her from marital bliss. She leaned back on the wall, and crossed her wings in front of her, looking/echosounding at the ceiling for several minutes. Finally, she began to cry. Softly, with no sobbing, but crying nonetheless. Why was nothing going right? Why was she being—why were *they* being denied so? Was this some Divine Restraint brought upon them, due to her behaviour? Even if they *were* married? Wasn't what she was doing perfectly legal and moral? Why couldn't she spend just one hour—well—half an hour—all right, ten minutes, tops—of love with her husband? Why was all this happening to them, here? She looked/echosounded at the ruined hot tub. She would have broken down in sobs, but her anger and frustration were mixing dangerously with her grief and angst. Everything was piling up and avalanching on them at an alarming speed. Maybe they needed a break, a *long* break, a break from "anomalies", from workouts, from indigestion, from *work*—

                What else did Pierre and Dalee suggest?


	10. Acht

ACHT  -  THE DODGING GAME: THE LAST STRAW

                From: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us

                To: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us

                Dear Dad and Mom,

                AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!! Everything's GOING WRONG ALL OVER THE PLACE!!!! I can't get more than five minutes alone with Dale, and when I do, it just seems as if everything he touches gets JINXED and it just blows up in our face! The Jacuzzi short-circuited. The dinner burned down. Our bedroom smells like smoke and melted plastic and metal! I'm—I'm afraid of losing my desire for Dale and I'm scared that my instincts will make me grab the next male bat I find! Please, I love Dale with all my heart and body and soul, but if I can't get any action, I—I don't know what I'll do! And to top it all off, Dale came home today with SUPPRESSANT TABLETS! I am NOT about to take them, not if he's right here next to me!

                Shaking like a leaf,

                Foxglove

                From: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us

                To: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us

                Dear Dale and Foxy,

                We're not sure what is happening at HQ. We were a bit worried when you decided to live in the same place where you worked, but since you didn't have any problems up to now, we figured that couldn't be the problem. With everything that's been happening, we've been having second thoughts about that. Maybe you should take another break from work, and go on a weekend vacation. The atmosphere around HQ, and the fact that Dale's best friend is there, along with *two* other males *and* another female, could be giving Dale jitters. He *is* after all, in a situation where he's working *and* having his married life in the same place. Maybe that's what's causing the whole thing. So to get back on track, just check out for the weekend, have fun, and go back to work. We'll even help you with reservations. Just like there are emergencies with your line of work, so there are emergencies in married life. Foxy, please, just calm down and wait for this storm to pass. It won't last forever. We'll make sure of that.

                Dale, I understand you perfectly. I was nervous too, once. I was a newlywed myself. But the only way you can solve this problem is if you face it head on. And if things are getting really desperate for you two, then maybe the time has come to just ignore all the disasters around you and just let go right there and then, making sure you don't have spectators, of course. Your mother and I had a few of those problems ourselves over many springs, and what we've learned is that when everything falls around you, just focus on the one you love. And we did that WITHOUT suppressant tablets (What on earth are you thinking, boy? Don't even THINK Foxy's gonna take those tablets! Sheesh, that's like you welding lead pants on yourself!)! Do you really need a Jacuzzi? A dinner? A bed, even? Look, I know those help you get more comfortable and they add to the romantic atmosphere, but maybe you need to be more daring. If you feel things are getting boring for you, then just let go, like your feral ancestors did. I know you don't have much privacy at HQ, so if you can't get everyone out for one day and have a day of love for yourselves, then your mother is right. You need an emergency vacation. We're adding a list of places you can go that are near New York City. And remember, I didn't raise no wimp—but if you are having any problems with anything—son, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Just tell us, and we'll see how we can overcome that. If you have a problem you felt too embarrassed to tell Dr. Qandlier, then tell *us*, and we'll see if another doctor can help you. You *can* overcome any problem. I KNOW you can.

                Love,

                Pierre and Dalee.

                Chip and Gadget were looking at the hot plate that Dale had dismantled. The heating coil had melted, and there were black stains of soot on the ceramic where the sparks burst, and a huge area of soot where the main short had happened. Examining the tub, there were no leaks above the damaged area, just partially melted plastic because of the heat, so that couldn't have caused the short circuit. In fact, there were no leaks whatsoever. The drain connection was also in good shape.

                "A coil must have come in contact with itself," theorised the mousemaid. "But if it did, the spark wouldn't have been that huge, and Foxglove would have been able to hear it." The chipmunk pondered,

                "She heard splashes sparks and fizzles just before the main short circuit. Dale was shaking off, but even without the shielding, from the position he was standing in, most of the water would have hit the side of the tub, the walls, and the floor, but not all on the hot plate."

                "A few strays got through. But they couldn't have caused the meltdown. You'd need a lot more water to land on one spot." Chip thought for a moment, and theorised again,

                "Well, if this is an anomaly, it's a very elusive one. Maybe the stray drops landed in a peculiar pattern that set off the meltdown?"

                "And focused all the energy on one spot? Not likely." The tamias thought for a moment again, and reasoned out loud,

                "Well, the only way a huge amount of water could have hit one spot would be if Dale had focused all his shaking on one spot. Still not likely." He turned to her and asked, "Do you think the manufacturer let this product sneak through quality control?" More pondering by the mus, and then she asked,

                "But if it did, why didn't the RAS detect any defects in it? I mean, *I* didn't find any defects."

                "Something inside the coil that got past everyone?" The Inventor lowered her ears and shook her head.

                "But I tested the coil before!" The Detective thought hard for a moment. Again, the only other option was that Dale deliberately threw water at the coil. But why would he want to sabotage something that could give him fun and relaxation? And if it was an accident, how could so much water land on the coil if Dale had his arms in front of him while he was shaking off, like all chipmunks instinctively do? He looked at the love of his life and asked,

                "Gadget, did you test this thing in the *same* conditions it would be used?" She turned and looked at him with surprise at what she thought was a very basic question.

                "Huh? Of course I did! Fill the tub with water, turn on the pump, turn on the heater, let Foxglove dip her wings and cause some spills, the water channels away from the heater, and it works perfectly! How else could it have been tested?" He kept looking at her beautiful eyes,

                "How long did that test last?"

                "Ten minutes and forty-one seconds. Why?" He just loved her accuracy reflex. He would have smiled, but this needed to be resolved. Rubbing his chin, he continued,

                "Strange, Foxy said they didn't have it on for more than five—I guess I was trying to think of another situation that you didn't——that wasn't foreseen," he quickly corrected himself. 

                "What other situation?" she wondered, raising her ears and one eyebrow in curiosity. How else could a Jacuzzi be used in a bathroom? The tamias replied,

                "They had the door and windows closed. I was about to suggest that the amount of steam that would have piled up in there would have affected the coil."

                "High humidity? That could have been a problem, but as you said, the heater wasn't on for more than five minutes, and it had a low setting. Not enough time or temperature." The male drummed his digits on the table, pondering again. There had to be other factors. He asked the mus,

                "Stray debris? Loose fur?" She shook her head,

                "There would be residues. And burnt fur would have been easily smelled all the way here." Chip padded around the table where they placed the hot plate, examining it over and over. His expression clearly showed that there were more options left other than an anomaly. Without turning to see her, he lowered his ears, stilled his tail, and said,

                "Gadget, it's moments like these that make me wish I wasn't a detective." She stilled her own features as she hurried over next to him and looked into his beautiful dark brown eyes.

                "Why?"

                "A cardinal rule in the art of detection and deductive reasoning is that 'once all the impossible options are eliminated, the final one, no matter how improbable it is, *has* to be the correct answer'." She straightened up a trifle,

                "So now you've eliminated all the impossibilities. What did you come up with?" The Detective took a breath,

                "I have four possible answers. One, is that it *was* an anomaly. The others—" he trailed off for a moment, lowered his head, and spoke quietly. "The others—are that either Dale deliberately sabotaged the tub, Foxglove sabotaged the tub, or they both did. But the problem with this theory is that there are no real motives for them to do so. Dale always wanted a Jacuzzi but never let on about it because he knew there were more important things to worry about, and he thought that just mentioning it would make us think he was being selfish. And he wouldn't destroy a childhood dream. Foxglove has no motive because she helped you assemble it and was very much looking forward to using it with her husband." Chip then took Gadget by her paw and padded to another table, where there was a human-sized hair drier. He turned it on, filling the workshop with noise. Reflexively, they lowered their ears, but only for a moment. Gadget wondered why he did this, until he turned and looked into her beautiful blue eyes, "That is, they have no motive that we know about, so there's the possibility that they're not telling us everything that's going on with them." Gadget paled at this, as her ears flattened in sudden fright. They had to talk a little louder, but they knew Foxglove would not be able to hear them.

                "Chip, do you think they could be having problems?" His eyes and ears displayed his own fright.

                "That's a possibility." Oh golly. The Inventor's locution powers faltered for a moment,

                "Do—do you think that—that we should talk to them? I mean—you talk with Dale—and I talk with Foxglove?" Chip looked away from her for a moment, and replied,

                "Not yet. It's only a possibility, but we have no real proof. The heater *could* have been defective. Or Dale, being careless, *did* cause an accident, and he's too ashamed to admit it, like he did with the spoiled dinner." The mousemaid's fright slowly subsided,

                "So, what do we do now?" The chipmunk crossed his arms, raised his ears, and straightened up,

                "We build them another Jacuzzi, this time with the tub's under-rim extending *lower* than the heater. The only way water will get to the coil would be if someone deliberately gets a cup of water, lays down, and throws the water up between the under-rim and the plate, or gets a hose and more or less tries the same thing." Gadget looked quizzically at him. "For now, we will say it was an anomaly." He turned off the blow drier, and looked at her again. "We build them a new and improved Jacuzzi—and hope for he best."

                "Chip?" Both rodents whirled to see the chiropterid at the door of the workshop. And both prayed that she didn't hear the previous part of their conversation, or their involuntary gasp just now.

                "Y-yes, Foxy?" The Acoustics Engineer timidly padded inside, slowly fidgeting her wingtips in front of her. Her features were as low as her enthusiasm.

                "Chip, it—it really isn't necessary to build us another Jacuzzi. I mean—I guess Dale felt a little awkward around it. But—for now—just—well—shelve it—and save all the equipment for what *all* the Rangers need." The rodents' features rose up partially due to curiosity and concern.

                "Well, if that's how you feel, Foxy," said the mus, "we'll do that. And Foxy—if—you need—anything else—even if it's just—well—time to talk—we're all here for you." The pipistrell looked/echosounded down for a moment, sighed, and then spoke again,

                "Well, there is kinda something I wanna ask you." Both rodents tensed as the chiropterid approached them.

                "W-what is it, Foxy?" asked the tamias. She looked/echosounded them with tired eyes/throat,

                "Well, you know that lately it's been kinda rough for Dale and me. I know we have a lot work to do here and we have things happen that no one can really prepare for, but lately it seems like everything's piling up on us. I just read Pierre and Dalee's last e-mail, and they gave us a suggestion I hope you agree with."

                "What is it?" asked the chipmunk. The bat lady hesitated a trifle, and began,

                "Chip, before I say it, I just want to know if there's really, *really* a lot of work to do here, because if there is, then we'll put all of my—our energies into helping everyone out. With all the equipment the RAS gave us—"

                "Golly, Foxglove, please don't think that we're keeping you here against your will! I mean, I'd like everyone to help me out here and have your input on how we could improve everything with all the new stuff we got like you did with the wind tunnel—" Gadget saw Chip's eyes, and immediately re-directed her train of thought, "—but it's not as if we have a deadline or anything. I mean, Monty and Zipper are right now at the dock waiting for cheese cargo, so I can re-schedule everything here if you need me to." The male added,

                "And with most animals preparing for hibernation, there aren't that many cases this time of the year. Foxy, what is it that you need?" The verspetilionid said nothing for a while. The sciurid padded up to her and placed a paw on her shoulder, "Foxy, whatever Pierre and Dalee suggested, I'm sure we can help you with it." She looked/echosounded at him, and finally said,

                "Well, you know that—that—it's my time of—Fall—Fall Fever—and—and—they suggested that we take a break from work and exercise—but only for a weekend." Chip's features perked up and he smiled,

                "A weekend off? Foxy, there's nothing wrong in asking for a weekend off! You know Gadget and I go on dates on some weekends, so you *know* I would give you a weekend off if you think you need one!" Foxglove's countenance perked up, as did her ears, while her tail swished.

                "You mean you will?" she asked ecstatically.

                "Well of course I will! Anything for my 'little sister', remember?" he replied. The mus, too, felt intensely relieved at this, as her ears and tail showed.

                "Oh, thank you, CHIP!!" Foxglove squealed as she gave him an enormous hug.

                "Ugh! You're welcome, Foxy!" he replied, grunting. He couldn't hug her back because she had pinned his arms down. She certainly seemed grateful for his favour, because that was one of the most powerful hugs he'd ever received from her—

                And she wasn't letting go.

                In fact, she was beginning to snuggle against his cheek and neck.

                "Foxy?" he asked in confusion. His tail stopped quivering.

                She never knew Chip smelled so nice, or that his fur was so soft, or that he sounded so interesting when she was this close, or that the scent of leather was nearly permanent on him now—

                "What's goin' on here?" demanded Dale, entering the workshop, and stiffening his features upon seeing the events described. Foxglove broke the hug with a start and turned to look/echosound at him. Her features stiffened in fright. This was an event similar to one that happened last April, when she asked Chip to let her hug him and pretend he was Dale.

                Except that this time, she didn't ask that of him now.

                And Chip knew that. And how could she *not* hear or smell him coming?

                "Dale—Cute Stuff—I'm sorry—!!!" Ashamed of her uncontrollable instincts, the bat lady covered her face with her wings and dashed to their room, sobbing. Chip and Gadget, meanwhile, had their fright, and suspicion, jump back on them again, as their stiff ears and tails showed, aside from their back fur beginning to bristle.

                "Dale, what's going on?" asked Chip, stomping toward him, and struggling not to lose his temper. 

                "I was about you to ask the same thing," he replied, also clenching his fists and incisors, and bristling fur to match, turning back to look at him. The Detective stopped when he saw the look on his best friend's face.

                "Dale—" he took a deep breath, trying to suppress his temper. "Dale—it's not what you think it was. I know because you're married now you kinda think other things were happening, but they weren't. It's not even like it happened last April—!!"

                "He's right, Dale," interrupted the Inventor, "Foxglove came here to ask him a favour. She asked him to give you the weekend off so you could go somewhere for a break. He agreed, and she was just thanking him." Dale looked at them for a moment. Then, slowly, he relaxed his features, turned away, and replied,

                "Oh, um—sorry—then—"

                "Dale, I know things aren't going very smoothly for you two right now," said Chip, standing behind his best friend. "And I know you're going to your parents for advice, but if you want to talk about anything else, remember I'm right here." The Comedian didn't turn around.

                "Yeah, sure. I understand. Sorry I got mad at you. And—thanks for givin' us the weekend—I guess—" A tense silence followed, during which Gadget wondered why Dale didn't seem very happy in spending a weekend with his wife. Or maybe he was trying to decide something,

                "Dale, have you decided where you're going?"

                "Huh? What?" he turned to look at her. "Oh, um, no, not yet, but—we'll decide tonight—I suppose. We'll probably go to Six Flags or somethin'…" The tamias trailed off as he padded out of the workshop. Chip and Gadget saw him leave, and the events they had just witnessed were quite unsettling for them.

                "Maybe he should talk to his parents, face-to-face," he suggested. "It was a good idea to give them those human hand-held e-mail consoles, but it looks like they need face-to-face help."

                "Or we should suggest having them see a marriage counsellor?" He had pondered about that before. And now he knew it was time to stop pondering and start acting.

                "They'll need a counsellor who's also part of a mixed-species couple. I guess we should start looking right away."

                After a few more e-mails, the couple decided to go to Six Flags at New York, and, they would stay in a nearby hotel. On Friday morning, everyone helped them pack and prepare the Ranger Wing for the trip. As they did, all the Rangers noticed that while Foxglove was more than happy and kept giving Dale suggestive glances, he seemed rather worried about something. Just before they left, Foxglove gave him what was probably the ultimate "come hither" look, and Dale, for some reason, *bolted* out of the hangar. When he came back to the hangar, he gave the following excuse,

                "Bathroom," which was quite credible, but that didn't explain the frightened look on his face, which Chip managed to notice. His suspicions were verified when Foxglove nearly started crying right there. And when they finally climbed on the Wing, and Gadget exclaimed,

                "Have a great time, you two!" Foxglove turned and replied,

                "Well, I sure hope so!" while Dale just sat there and said nothing. Instead, he had a certain expression, one that reminded Chip of someone about to go to the electric chair. The Comedian blankly turned to the controls, activated the Wing, took off, and left for the hotel. Chip's suspicions, as well as everybody else's, did not diminish during the weekend. The only thing that diminished were the minor disasters that seemed to happen whenever Dale was around. Chip prayed dearly that they wouldn't happen at the hotel they were staying. And during the weekend, all the Rangers decided to give them a surprise and install a new and improved Jacuzzi.

                On Monday morning, things did not get any better. Dale and Foxglove burst through the door, and both were carrying a pile of souvenirs and prizes won during their weekend. More exactly, Foxglove was carrying a pile, and Dale just had the suitcases. Chip, startled a trifle, asked them,

                "Well, how was your weekend?" Dale burst,

                "Oh, it was AWESOME!! We rode the roller coaster TWELVE times, spun around a bazillion times in all those flyin' chairs and spinnin' cups, rode in the speedboats, went on a crazy Ferris Wheel, and cleaned up ALL the prizes in ALL the booths!!" The Detective noticed something was wrong. From what Foxglove had requested, that wasn't the *only* type of fun that was intended. Dale's face was jubilant—like a *cub's*—

                And Foxglove? She was carrying so much stuff her head was covered! But even so, she didn't seem to be as excited as Dale was—

                Or *happy*, for that matter—

                Dale suddenly turned to her and said, "Honey, I'll be in the shower. You can hand out all the prizes to the others. See you at lunch!" And the chipmunk nonchalantly padded to their room, and slammed the door behind him. Suddenly, Foxglove dropped all the prizes on the floor, startling everyone again. And they were even *more* startled when she suddenly covered her face and collapsed on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably. The others, of course, gathered around, with low ears and still tails.

                "Foxy, what's wrong? What happened?" asked Gadget, sitting beside her, placing her paws on her shoulders. Chip, meanwhile, had his deductive reasoning going at full speed again. *Dale* wasn't here, comforting his wife. Slowly, his anger began to rise once more, as his back fur was. Gadget, meanwhile, had managed to sit Foxglove up, but she still had her wings covering her face. The chipmunk sat beside the bat lady, took a deep breath, and plunged in,

                "Foxy, did—did something wrong happen during the weekend?"

                No response. 

                But then, slowly, the pipistrell nodded. 

                Oh no. No.

                "But what? Did Dale—" He just couldn't bring himself to ask the question. It was so unlikely of Dale, and yet, when placed under the right circumstances, he was willing to *kill*, but then again, he would kill to *defend* her. Could another set of circumstances have happened that might have caused him to—to— 

                "————*hurt* you?"

                Twenty seconds passed.

                And the chiropterid nodded once more. Fur bristled all around, while Zipper's wings buzzed in anger.

                Dale, a wife-beater?

                No, that couldn't be possible. He was NOT that kind of chipmunk! He was fun loving, goofy, happy, always willing to help, he loved Foxglove with all his heart—

                And why would he even consider beating her—?

                No.

                He *was* under a *new* set of circumstances: He was *married* now. And his wife, having Fall Fever, was demanding a LOT from him. But their honeymoon was last June! And when they came back, the action didn't cease. On many nights, Chip, and the others, had been awakened by indiscreet noises coming from the couple's bedroom, obviously indicating that they were enjoying themselves. But lately, those sounds had become increasingly disturbing. Namely, it was Dale's screams that woke them up, and now he was beginning to wonder if they had anything to do with marital bliss. And if they didn't—

                The botched dinner.

                The ruined Jacuzzi.

                They were fighting! And not just arguing, but *physically* fighting! That was the only way the tablecloth could have been set on fire, and the only way the Jacuzzi could have short-circuited! Foxglove was demanding too much from Dale, and now, he was retaliating! But before Chip could get up and beat the tar out of Dale, it seemed that it was now Monterey's turn to infuriate,

                "WHAT!! 'E didn't BEAT ye, did 'e???!!!" The mouse obviously came up with his own conclusion. "Foxy, please, let's see yore face!!" He gently placed his paws on her wings, and tried to uncover her head—

                "He didn't touch me," sobbed the verspetilionid. Great, now she was in denial. That wouldn't help at all. Zipper insisted,

                "No, Foxy, you don't have to hide anything from us! Dale *could* need help, but you have to let us hel—"

                "He *didn't* touch me," she repeated, practically hissing. Slowly, she lowered her wings, revealing her tear-matted facial fur. It was messed up, but there were no bruises, cuts, scars, or slashes, and her ears were intact as well. Gadget gently pulled her wings aside and took a closer look. There were no bruises or scratches on her torso, legs, or even her membranes. But there was more than one way of hurting others. The sciurid pressed on,

                "Did he say something to you? Insult you? Abuse you mentally or emotional——"

                "No. Dale was his usual happy self!" she sniffled like crazy. "Hyperactive, funny——he wanted to do everything and go everywhere at once——but he didn't touch me. As if all the Halloween motifs that were all over the place weren't bad enough!" The tamias sat up for a moment. This did *not* add up. Dale was his usual comedic self, and he enjoyed himself at Six Flags, but why didn't Foxglove also enjoy herself?

                "But Foxy, how could Dale hurt you if he never said anything wrong or—"

                "Touch."

                "—touch you? Did he say any jokes or any Halloween references that may have hurt——"

                "*No*, Chip," she emphasised, looking/echosounding at him with a face that showed pain, anger, rejection, grief, and frustration. "He *didn't* touch me———Chip, guys———he didn't—*touch* me——never while we were there, *never* at the hotel——Dale never *touched* me—he *hasn't* touched me!! For nearly three weeks now—he hasn't---*touched* me at all!!"

                The Rangers looked at each other. Why would a newlywed *not* want to touch his wife?


	11. Neun

NEUN  -  THIS ISN'T A GAME ANYMORE

                Dale stomped out of his room, ears low, tail stiff, and fur bristling, apparently quite upset. He was stomping back to the living room, but he was intercepted in the hall by the other Rangers, who were looking/echosounding at him *quite* angrily. All ears and tails were stiffly laid back, and all back fur was bristling where applicable.

                "Hey, why did you guys put *another* Jacuzzi in our bathroom? You didn't need to, you know—" It was then that he noticed their irate features and expressions. "What?" he asked suspiciously. The Detective's left paw trembled into a fist and—

                **BONK!!!!!!**

                The Comedian reeled for a moment, holding his head tight. Glaring back at his best friend, he demanded, "WHAT???!!!" Normally, Chip would start grilling him and demand answers, but this time, he knew that any questions would be of a very intimate nature. But how could he set his friend straight without prodding too deeply into his intimate life?

                "Dale," he began, in a paused manner, trying not to chatter or hiss, but without much luck. "What—happened—this—weekend?" Dale glared back at him for a moment and replied, trying not to growl himself,

                "I *told* you what happened. We had fun, we won prizes, we came back. Didn't you like your prize?" Chip's eyes flashed red and he brought his trembling fists up, but he took a deep breath and growled back,

                "You made reservations for a suite?" The Comedian looked at the Detective. His gaze shifted a trifle and his ears softened, because he knew that the prodding had begun. Quickly, he gave an evasive answer,

                "I called and made the reservations."

                "For a *suite*?" pressed Chip. Evasive answers never got past him. And because he knew that, Dale began to sweat.

                "Uhhh—why?" Finally, Chip growled,

                "You didn't tell us that the reservation was 'denied' at the last moment, because the hotel staff 'goofed' and booked you a suite when they were all already 'taken', so when you arrived you two had 'no other choice' but to be placed in two single rooms on OPPOSITE sides of the hotel!!!" Dale suddenly turned to his wife and stuttered, panickly flailing his paws about,

                "W-why did you tell him that? It wasn't *my* fault that—that the hotel—and there were only single beds—single rooms—and—I let you choose—the room—you wanted————" His evasiveness was rapidly collapsing at the same rate his voice trailed off. Gadget spoke,

                "Dale, we just called the hotel. They had *three* empty suites this weekend." She, too, felt like crying, but she wasn't sure if it was because of grief, or anger, or both. "Why—" her voice cracked. "Why did you make reservations for two single rooms?" The Comedian was sweating buckets. 

                "Well—I—um—"

                "And ruin the Jacuzzi?" asked Monterey.

                "And your dinner?" asked Zipper.

                "I—I—it's—well—uhhhhhhhh—"

                "Dale," said Chip, after a deep breath. "Are—are you okay?" For a long moment, Dale didn't answer. Slowly, he turned to the wall, put a tired paw on it, looked down, and replied,

                "I—I'm—fine, Chip." Foxglove turned away from her husband.

                "Really?" asked the Detective, not buying that one bit.

                "Yes." Dale wouldn't look at anyone.

                "No problems at all?"

                "No."

                "You sure?"

                "Yes." Chip thought for a moment.

                "Are you hungry?" Dale suddenly turned to him and raised an eyebrow, a trifle stunned at the sudden change of topic, but after another moment, he replied,

                "Kinda, sure." The Detective nodded slightly, turned to the mouse and fly and said,

                "Can you get the bottle, please?" With irate faces, ears, and fists as responses, Monterey and Zipper padded/flew to the kitchen. Dale didn't like what was happening.

                "Chip, what's goin' on?" The chipmunk, the bat lady, and the mousemaid began padding forward, making the other chipmunk pad backward, toward the bedroom.

                "Dale, please know that we care about you, about you *both*. And it really pains us to know that you and Foxy haven't been able to find some quiet time for yourselves." Chip's voice, though high-pitched, was flat and business-like. Dale stuttered,

                "Y-yeah, well, it's not as if we just wanna cut ourselves off from the team, you know, uhhh—"

                "That's why I'm giving you more time off. Take all the time you need to get back on track." They were at the door now. "Go ahead and enjoy yourselves. It's good for you, you know." Panicking, Dale glanced wildly about and protested,

                "B-but Chip, we already took a weekend off! Didn't you guys have a lot of work pile up all this time?" Chip shook his head.

                "Nothing we couldn't handle. But even if we had something big come along, we'd just divide it equally and let you guys have time off. From what Foxy told us, it looks like you *really* need it."

                "B-b-b-b-but, Chip, I-I-I-I don't think this is such a g-g-g-g-good idea!" Monterey and Zipper came back, carrying a bottle of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup. They gave it to Foxglove, who took it and angrily padded into the bedroom. Dale's anxiety attack was practically on him now,

                "Huh? Foxy, what are you doin' with that—HEY!!" Chip suddenly shoved his best friend inside and slammed the door shut. As Gadget tinkered with the lock to make sure the door opened only from the outside, Chip chattered,

                "You'renotcomingoutofthatroomuntilFoxysaysyoucan!!" He then turned to the other Rangers and said, "I think we should bring Pierre and Dalee here. NOW." The mousemaid, having finished her work with the lock, straightened up,

                "I think we should. Come on, guys, we'd better send them an e-mail quick."

                "Roight! Me and Zip'll prepare the Ranger Wing!"

                "Then we'll give those two some time alone. We'll head to the police station after we see you off!"

                With stiff ears and tail, and bristling fur, Dale pounded at the suddenly barricaded door of his cell—er—bedroom, chattering, "HEYOPENUPIHAVEN'THADBREAKFASTYETHOWAMISUPPOSEDTOGETTHROUGHTHEDAYWITHOUTADECENTBREAKFASTIT'STHEMOSTIMPORTANTMEALOFTHEDAYYOUKNOW!!"

                "Dale, we had breakfast at the hotel before we left," sighed his wife, not looking/echosounding at him, but instead, she was just looking/echosounding at the floor next to the bed.

                "We did?" he asked, turning to look at her, raising one eyebrow again. "Oh, I forgot. But still, they shouldn't be messin' with our private lives! I mean, this is none of their business! What gives them the right to interfere with—"

                "I asked them to, Dale," she quivered with fright at his behaviour and tone of voice. "I told them the whole thing. How we can't get any time to ourselves, and when we do, you just don't—don't—*want*—don't want—to—get affectionate—or close—" she began sniffling, still not looking/echosounding at him, "or—intimate—anymore—" For the first time ever, the rodent actually got really ticked off at his mate's behaviour,

                "WHAT???!!!Whyonearthdidyoutellthemthatfor??!!Wehaveourprivacyyouknow!!!Ordoyouthinkit'sagoodideatotelleveryonewhatwedoinhereorhaveourromanticmomentswhereeveryonecanseeandhearlikeyoualmostdidthatothernight?" With each word, her heart grew more and more pained, ready to shatter,

                "What *we* almost did," the pipistrell tried not to sob, "And it was—two weeks ago—" The tamias padded behind her and chattered, flailing his paws again,

                "It was? WellI'mgladONEOFUShasdecidedtokeepsomesenseofdecencyandmodestyaroundhere!Ormaybeyouthinkweshouldleteveryone—myPARENTSeven—haveourmomentsdescribedtotheminmedicaldetail???!!!Heylookaslongaswe'reonarollwhydon'twejustbringeveryoneinhereandyoujusttellthemEVERYlittlepartofourlastsession!Itshouldn'tbeTHATdifficulttorememberafterallitwasonly—only—"

                "*Three* weeks ago," she finished, with her eyes now like fountains.

                "RIGHT!!!" he yelled. "THREE——!!!!——weeks—————ago…" His chattering trailed off when he realised just how long he had been denying her, and his fur settled down. Looking at his wife, he saw that her shoulders were trembling. Suddenly ashamed once more, as his ears and tail showed, he turned, and padded toward the drawer, placing both paws on it and looking down, not wanting to see his own face in the mirror. "Uh—zowie—I—I didn't know it had been that long—really. I—didn't know—I mean—all this time—I—I knew you wanted to—but—but then—it seemed you could hold out—for a little bit—more—" The chiropterid didn't reply. She just stood there, waiting for her heart to break, waiting for him to say he didn't love her anymore and didn't want any more intimacy either—

                Waiting for the end.

                "Really, Foxy, you—you've shown that you can be pretty strong! I mean if—if you've handled it before, there's—no—no reason why you can't handle it now!"

                "Why?" she asked coldly.

                "Huh? Why what?" The rodent turned slightly toward her.

                "Why should I handle it now and hold out any longer?" her voice was filled with tension and anger. "Why should I not enjoy marital bliss with my husband when he's right next to me? Why should I deny myself to him—the same way he's—*denying*—himself—to me?" The chipmunk froze. "Why—why—are—you—doing this—to me—Dale? Or better yet—why are you *not* doing this to me—when—it—hurts—*hurts*—so———*bad*??" The bat lady had now asked for an official explanation for his behaviour. And now, no clumsiness would cover up his present denial any more. The sciurid turned back to the drawer.

                "Wh—why? Well—" But what could he tell her, if he didn't know for sure himself! "I—er—well—um—there's—" Randomness kicked in again, but would it be enough? "There's—the matter of privacy!" his ears perked up, but he still didn't turn around. "Right after our—our—last time—Chip told me—I—um—we—woke him up—because—of all the—um—noise we did! I mean—I can't imagine the complaints we would have got if that had happened at the hotel!" Keeping his paws on the drawer, he turned to look at her, "And besides, I *really* think this whole thing is being WAY overrated! I mean, from all I've heard and read, isn't it true that females would rather just cuddle—?" His argument was interrupted when he finally heard her crying.

                "Dale—" she sobbed, "Dale—I—I need you—" He, on the other paw, just turned again to look at his pathetic reflection in the mirror. "Dale, please," she sobbed again, "____  ____  ____  ____."

                There. She had made an official request. Would he dare continue denying himself to his mate?

                Finally, he decided to stop being an idiot. He turned around, padded resolutely toward the verspetilionid, grabbed her shoulders, whirled her around, and prepared to give her a kiss she would not soon forget—

                "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" he screamed, pushing themselves apart and staggering back from her.

                There it was again.

                That FACE.

                That *HORRIBLE* FACE.

                The pipistrell's fright increased ten-fold. She covered her muzzle with her wings in terror. There was no mistaking it now:

                He was scared to death of her!

                But why?

                "Honey?" she shivered, as her married life crumbled before her eyes and ears. "Why—why are you so afraid of me? You know I'd never hurt you!!" The tamias continued to stagger back, trying not to trip on his own foot-paws.

                "I—I—don't know!! Foxy—please—don't get me wrong—I really *do* want to—but—but—" The bat lady had enough. She padded to the bottle, removed the cap, picked up the bottle, held it upside down over her head, and squeezed with all her might. In seconds, she was covered from her ear tips to her toe claws with chocolate. And slowly, she began padding toward him.

                One part of his brain was about to go into chocolate attack mode, but another wanted to escape this slimy monster in front of him.

                "Dale, please," she sobbed. The chipmunk's eyes didn't know whether to glaze over or dilate in fright. Confusion filled his mind like never before. He knew that part of his brain wanted to let go and give in right here and now, but another part was telling him to run, and yet another part was telling him to immerse himself in the chocolate. Suddenly, he tripped and fell on his back.

                The monster loomed in front of him, and spoke,

                "Cute Stuff—could you at least——hug me?" The rodent couldn't speak. The chiropterid, on the other paw, had only one more explanation for her mate's behaviour. "Dale—is—is—there—someone else—?" Finally, something within him broke.

                "NO!" he chattered, scrambling to his foot-paws. "There never was, and never will be! Foxy! I'm sorry, but I can't!!!" He suddenly turned and tried to open the door, but it was barricaded. Glancing wildly all over the place, he dashed toward a window, and began scrambling though it. "I'm sorry, Foxy!" his voice strained as he squeezed himself through the opening and scurried off. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

                His apologies echoed all through her mind and her heart, which had now been effectively shattered, as he disappeared from her sight and sonar.

                She just stood there, dripping with chocolate.

                She couldn't entice him anymore.

                She couldn't figure him out anymore.

                She couldn't do anything to him anymore.

                She couldn't cry anymore.

                Why, Dale? Why can't you?

                Why?


	12. Zehn

ZEHN  -  DO WE REALLY NEED FRIENDS?

                Chip and Gadget entered the living room with Pierre and Dalee behind them. Pierre once again had his dark grey shirt, and Dalee had her orange dress.

                "Yes, the marriage counsellor would probably do a better job if he or she were part of a mixed-species couple—" Chip's speech pattern was halted when he saw Foxglove sitting on the couch, and smelled the scent of chocolate all over the air.

                "Foxy?" asked Dalee. The bat lady had heard them coming but didn't stand to receive them. Instead, she just turned to look/echosound at them. All four rodents gasped when they saw the pain and desperation in her bloodshot eyes.

                "Foxy, what happened? Where's Dale and the others?" asked the mousemaid. The pipistrell turned back and looked/echosounded blankly in front of her before she replied,

                "Dale—Dale—ran out the window." Everyone else's blood pooled at their foot-paws. One moment later, the blood of a certain elder tamias began boiling, and it was quite evident in his eyes, ears, tail, and back fur,

                "WHAT?? What on EARTH made him do that?"

                "I don't know," sobbed Foxglove. "I've done everything you suggested to entice him. The acorn dinner, the Jacuzzi, the vacation, the chocolate—everything! I even covered myself in chocolate syrup—and—and—it scared him to death, somehow!!" She brought her wings to her face and sobbed while the mousemaid and chipmunk lady sat next to her, and then she continued, "I even asked him if there was another female, but he said there wasn't. He kept telling me that he'd never do that, but that he just couldn't—couldn't—" Filled with confusion, Dalee hugged her daughter-in-law.

                "How did you get out?" asked Gadget.

                "Well, I just stood still for a long while, waiting for him to return and apologise and get things back on track—but he didn't come back. I showered off all the chocolate, and I knocked on the door, calling for you guys. Then I remembered you were going to pick up Dale's parents, so I had to climb out the window myself. I managed to open the door and clean up the mess and then I waited for Monty and Zipper to come back from the police station. I couldn't sleep at all. When they came back, I explained what had happened. He and Zipper took off right there to look for him, and they haven't come back yet!" The chiropterid settled in Dalee's shoulder for another bout of sobbing, and the rodent held her close. The chocolate scent was still strong on her, even after the shower. Motherly, she hugged her, placing her paws over Foxglove's ears, so she didn't hear when someone approached the front door and entered.

                "Monty! Zipper!" exclaimed Chip, turning to them. All ears perked up. "Where's Dale?" The bat lady was able to hear Chip's high voice, so she suddenly straightened up and turned to look/echosound at the mouse and fly, who explained as they approached the others,

                "Don't know, mate. Dale didn't take the Ranger Plane or Ranger Skate; 'e just took off runnin' like a roadrunner."

                "Where did you look for him?" asked Chip. The murid didn't reply at that. Instead, he padded over to the elder chipmunk and said,

                "Nice t' see ye again, Pierre. Jus' wish it was under better circumstances."

                "The feeling's mutual, Monty. I can't believe that this is happening, and with Dale! I mean, there were no warning signs at all, were they?"

                "NO!" sobbed the victim, making everyone turn to her again. "It just started one night, right after—after we—" Her sobbing stopped her explanation.

                "Say, Dalee, Gadget, why don't ye take Foxy t' 'er room 'n talk about the female side o' this? Me 'n Zip kinda need a word or two with Pierre 'n Chip."

                "Sure, Monty. Come on, Foxy, now it's a good as time as ever for a mother-daughter-sister bonding time." Foxglove's body shook with her sobbing, nearly as bad as Dale's body shook that horrible night last May. The chipmunk lady and the mousemaid took the bat lady back to her room. The males heard Gadget tinkering with the doorknob again, putting it back in its original condition. When they heard the door close, the mouse sat down and looked at the elder chipmunk.

                "Pierre, we both know that we can't 'ide anythin' anymore. We need t' know: did Dale ever do somethin' like this before?" The sciurid looked at the murid for a moment, and replied,

                "No. He had a girlfriend or two back in the forest, but even Chip will tell you that he never did anything wrong. No female ever gave herself fully to him, and he never gave—"

                "Are you sure?" interrupted the muscid.

                Pierre started to glare at them, "I'm positive, Mister Lightringer. Even if he had bathed afterward, Dalee or I would have been able to smell him coming a mile away. Or where do you think Dale inherited his sensitive nose from?" Chip knew where Monterey was heading. Pierre asked again, "So you think that Dale is cheating on her now?" Monterey replied,

                "They're not fightin', as far as we know. But we'll accept any other suggestions. 'N fact, we're *beggin'* for more suggestions." The elder sighed in frustration, and rubbed his forehead as he tried to come up with another explanation of Dale's behaviour.

                "I—I really don't know. He didn't say much after his last girlfriend broke up with him. That was right before Chip asked him to come to the city with him and become detectives. I heard he was fighting for Gadget for a while, but that seemed normal to me. Other than that, I don't know why else he would act this way." It was the younger chipmunk's time to ponder.

                "There's no way he could be cheating on Foxy. Like you said before, Pierre, it's just not in him. Even when we lived here alone, he never mentioned anyone to me—I guess he was either too busy with other stuff or too unlucky to even bother trying."

                "Chipper, lad, I—" Monterey hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should bring up this part of his past. "I—think I've been 'n Dale's situation before. Out 'n my own, doin' new things, goin' from a country settin' t' a *city* settin', 'n my sweet innocence is suddenly 'it with *everythin'* the city 'as t' offer—" The mus looked down, ashamed of his past. "Outside o' 'is parent's control, Dale might 'ave broken loose all restraint 'n indulged 'imself 'n pleasure 'e couldn't 'ave before." Chip looked at his large friend. At least he was sorry and not boasting about his exploits. The younger tamias sighed and replied,

                "Monty, everything Dale did at night was either watch T.V., read comic books, or sleep. And I know he couldn't have done anything else because either the T.V. would still be on or warm the following morning AND he would tell me what the show was about, even if I didn't want to hear it, or all his comics would be all over the floor or on his bed AND he would tell me what he read, or I would simply find him ready to work the next day, proving he slept well." He gave another sigh. "Even if he had brought someone home or had gone somewhere while I slept, *I* would have been able to smell something the next day. He had no reason to shower off, either, since you weren't here, Pierre. His room never had any scent other than trash, pizza, acorns, chocolate, junk food, and himself. When Gadget and Monty moved in, he moved in with me, but all this time there were never any suspicious scents on him. Our work *has* brought us to some places where we've met females out on their rounds, but when we have, none of them have ever recognised him or greeted him or anything, and he never acted more nervous than usual."

                "And nothing's changed since he met Foxy?" asked Pierre. Zipper replied,

                "Not really. Ever since Gadget and Monty moved in, everything stayed the same, until Foxy moved in. He spent a lot of time with her, but we never smelled anything unusual." The younger sciurid continued,

                "When he realised he loved her, his dates lasted longer and longer, but every morning he was either on the top bunk or on the couch. He smelled a bit of Foxy, but nothing incriminating. And *after* they got married, they've spent practically every single night in their room!"

                "It's the 'practically' that worried me there, Chipper," said the mus. "I asked Foxy if Dale 'ad ever spent the night away from 'er, 'n she said a few times, but those were mostly t' watch a movie she considered borin' or disturbin'. I got a moight suspicious there, so I took a picture o' Dale 'n went around askin' if anyone 'ad seen 'im—or 'ad 'im for a customer."

                "And what did you find out?" asked the elder rodent, laying back his ears, nervous and slightly angered that this large rodent had even considered this possibility.

                "We found out that Dale's as clean as a whistle," buzzed the dipterid. "Some recognised him through his picture in the papers, but no other females ever got near him. We also checked out the comic and candy stores, but he's not there either. " Pierre rubbed back his facial fur, and summarised,

                "So he's not cheating, and he's not fighting with her. Foxy said she scared him somehow, but what could he be scared of?"

                "An old wives' tale?" asked Zipper. "You know Dale believes a lot of what he sees and reads."

                "After five months? Not likely," replied Monterey.

                "Well, that just leaves one last option," sighed Chip. "Simply put: there is something physically wrong with Dale." The elder Oakmont sank back into the couch. His son, sick? Or disabled, at least? And worst of all, in the middle of his wife's Fall Fever—

                In the middle?

                It *started* in the middle?

                "Hold it," he said, sitting upright and raising his ears. "Before Dalee and Gadget took Foxy away, she said that it all *started* one night. Now, I don't recall hearing of any medical condition or disability that just pounces on you right after you—"

                "And in the prime of your life?" interrupted the musca. "She said she scared him, maybe he's scared because of all he has to do?" The Detective's deductive reasoning processed this for a moment, and he exclaimed,

                "It's psychological!"

                "Huh?" asked the mouse.

                "Dale's problem isn't physical, it's psychological! He *IS* scared after all!" Eyebrows were raised all around.

                "And he *hasn't* been scared until now? Who would ever be scared of marital bliss?"

                "I don't know, Pierre, but even with all the changes he's gone through, Dale's still Dale, so he must have seen or heard—or *done* something that has terrified him to the point of not wanting to even go near his wife!" 

                "And 'is fright started roight 'n the middle o' things?" asked Monterey. Chip looked at him,

                "We've eliminated all the impossibilities. This last option, no matter how improbable it is, *has* to be the right answer." The males sat in silence for a while, and then Zipper concluded,

                "So all we have to do now is wait for Dale to come back and drag that information out of him and see what he's so scared of."

                "*If* he himself knows what it is," added Chip. He sat back and sighed, knowing there was no more deduction to be done now. "Well, I guess we wait for him then. Pierre, thanks for coming. We'll get the guest room ready for you two." With that, everyone stood. The murid and dipterid took the elder sciurid to the guest room to prepare for the night. Meanwhile, the younger sciurid padded out the door, and closed it behind him. After all this madness, he needed some time of his own and just give his mind a rest. He breathed deeply the cold October air, identifying the fragrances of the season: evaporated chlorophyll, drying vegetation, various types of wood, Dale, humans here and there, pumpkins, plastic that was being displayed as Halloween approached, cold humidity, doughnuts from the shop next to the police station—

                Dale?

                A light breeze brought his friend's scent to him again. He looked up, and just barely visible in the moonlight, he saw the Comedian sitting on one of the higher branches of the tree. Looking at him, he no longer felt anger, but intense worry and sadness, not to mention dread, since it was possible that he may one day face this exact same problem with Gadget, whatever it may be. Slowly, he clawed his way up to the branch, and as he got closer, he saw that Dale's hang-glider was on an adjacent branch. No wonder Monterey couldn't find him.

                As he got closer, Dale felt the branch move, and another shift in the breeze brought the smell of leather, Gadget, and his parents, to his nose.

                "Hi, Chip," he said, not turning around. Since he didn't start with a stupid comment, Chip decided to hold off the bonking, for now. His best friend was in need of help, and he needed it badly. Both sets of ears were laid back in sadness.

                "We've been worried about you all day," he began. "Where have you been?" Dale didn't look at him.

                "Here and there. I needed time alone."

                "But where? Monty and Zipper looked for you everywhere, even—even in places you normally wouldn't be. Where were you?"

                "Well, at first I wasn't sure where to go, so I ran around the tree, got my glider, and just took off. I flew around for a while, trying to clear my head of everythin'."

                "So you just flew around in circles all day?"

                "I guess. Around noon I got tired so I landed to find somethin' to eat, but for some reason I wasn't hungry. I—still don't feel hungry. As I kept thinkin' on what I was doin', I decided to go back to the beginnin' of everythin' and see if I had lost anythin' in our relationship, anythin' that would make me *want* her again." The Detective knew where he was headed now.

                "You went to the drive-in?"

                "Yes. Back to that exact same roof. It looks very different during the daytime. I flew around a bit, rememberin' how it all happened. I landed on top of the lamppost and tried to visualise everythin': Bud, Lou, the bubble gum, the Ranger Wing…" The Comedian trailed off as he closed his eyes and images replayed in his mind again. "There wasn't any gum left on the lamppost. I guess some scavengers got to it or it dried off or somethin'. But all I could remember there was how scared I was of her, because she was a bat. Not findin' anythin' there, I went to the Laundromat." Dale paused in a manner that made Chip shiver with fright.

                "The Laundromat? What—what did you find there?"

                "It's changed a bit. The washin' machines are gone, but the cauldron's still there. Some homeless people use it as a fireplace now. I walked around, rememberin' how I felt so brave when Freddy caught us, and then so—so *angry* when I learned that Foxglove was her helper. But then—then—I felt so *scared* when I was turned into a frog. And when I saw Foxglove about to drop that brick in the cauldron, I realised she really *did* care about me. When we both got caught and tied up, I—I—wasn't frightened—for some reason—it was the first time I was trapped and *didn't* feel frightened—because---because Foxy was with me. Then, for one instant, I really thought we were goin' to die, but even then I wasn't scared—because Foxy was next to me. Luckily you guys got there in time."

                "You can thank Zipper for tracking you down. If it wasn't for him, we'd now have a very powerful witch in town." The Comedian opened his eyes.

                "And two mammals less. When we got loose and joined in the fight, I never felt braver. I *knew* what to do to stop the spell, and I had someone to help me. I also knew that there was no time to give taunts or say anythin' that the good guy always says when he's about to beat the bad guy, because that's when the bad guy's helpers sneak behind him and trap him again."

                "Like it happened with Foxglove." Dale turned to face Chip,

                "Strange thing is that she told me she didn't watch much T.V. I guess all that time for me paid off, didn't it?"

                "*That* time it did, Dale. But did you find anything there?" Dale turned away again.

                "I—I don't think I did. Sure, there were a lot of things to remember, and I thought that was the place where I stopped bein' afraid of her, but after thinkin' things over, I see that it was because she wasn't throwin' herself at me, *and* because we both faced a common enemy. When we finished that case and no longer had a common enemy, she almost went back to throwin' herself at me, but she didn't. I guess that's because she was too busy teachin' us how to use the hang-glider. Once those lessons were over, she started it again."

                "Until we got that case in England."

                "Yeah. I didn't know back then if we'd have to face another common enemy, or even a much bigger enemy. I had heard the phrase 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', so I decided to put Foxglove to the test and see if she wasn't—wasn't—" Dale looked down for a moment, "—like all those other females back at the forest. I guess what I told her came out all wrong since she left before we did."

                Chip sighed. "You broke her heart."

                Dale shivered and sighed himself. "I know. I didn't mean to, really. Well, you remember what happened after that, she came back, took Gadget's translator, got captured, we went to rescue her, and—and—" Dale looked up for a moment, as that fateful moment replayed in his mind.

                "And?"

                "And I looked into her eyes. That was the point where I stopped feelin' scared of her, and I fell in love with her, and Gadget just—just vanished from my head. But—I—I don't know why I lost that." He looked down again. He knew how, but he didn't know why. Chip pressed on,

                "Then what did you do?"

                "Well, I figured, since I was so far away from the Tree, I decided to do somethin' productive, and I began an air patrol. You really can't see much, but at least I was doin' somethin'." Chip sat down behind him,

                "And you just came back? Where exactly did you do your patrol?" Dale sighed, and turned to look at his best friend.

                "Chip, I know you'll probably bonk me for this, but as I was flyin' around, I ended up in—in East Staten Island Park." Chip bristled and paled as his ears fell back. Then, in a near-uncontrollable rage, he moved forward, knelt beside his best friend, held his trembling fists in front of him, and chattered,

                "You—WHAT??!!" Dale turned away again,

                "And I know that what I'm about to say isn't goin' to make much sense, but Chip—I—don't know how I wound up there—I just—just—wound up there—like—like I was *supposed* to be there—somehow." The Detective continued speaking through clenched incisors,

                "Dale, you KNOW that park is mortally dangerous for ANY animal!! At what time did you get there?"

                "Around three. Don't worry, the owl lady was fast asleep." Chip wasn't sure if he should calm down with that piece of information.

                "So—you were *supposed* to be there? What on earth do you mean by that?!" The Comedian looked up,

                "I'm not sure. But when I entered the park, I had the strangest feelin', as if I had seen it before." Chip sat back for a moment.

                "But you *haven't* seen it before. You got a *déjà-vue* because you had a dream you forgot in which you saw a park similar to it and when you saw the real park the memory was triggered—"

                "That would be the logical explanation," he interrupted, "but Chip, this wasn't—this wasn't a normal *déjà-vue*. What I felt when I saw it was—well—I felt as if somethin' terrible had happened there."

                "The dream you forgot was a nightmare." Dale raised his paws, trying to stop the deductions from his best friend.

                "No, no. Look, this is really strange. If I had a nightmare about it, I would have remembered it—"

                "With the talk we had about the Councils giving us permission to kill that owl lady, you probably had all those feelings come back on you when you saw it. And that owl lady *has* killed many in that place, so you were right. Terrible things have happened in that p—"

                "No, Chip, it's more than that," he interrupted again, raising his paws, turning to look at him. "I felt as if somethin' terrible had happened to *us*, to *all* of us, right there in that park! I flew around, tryin' to find out what was makin' me feel that way. I found a foxglove vine, and wondered if it was the same one that Foxy fell into when she was little. Maybe the whole thing had somethin' to do with her, but from the way I was feelin'—it was just somethin' that involved us *all*." Chip's ears relaxed a trifle as he sat beside him.

                "But how could that be? We've never been to that park! There's no way something terrible could have happened to us if we've never been there." Dale thought and thought, and finally replied,

                "Chip, I know this is weird, but maybe if all of you go to the park, you might feel what I felt." He sat up and hugged his knees, looking at the stars again. "Anyway, I flew around, and I saw this huge tree with a hole in it. I knew it was the owl lady's nest because there were bits of fur and bones near the edge and on the ground just below it. And that's when I felt it the strongest. I got the feelin' that I *knew* that owl lady, that I *knew* who she was, and that she had done somethin' terrible to us all. Or—or—" He trailed off again.

                "Or what?" insisted Chip. Dale turned to look at his friend,

                "Chip, I know this is goin' to sound like science-fiction, but it wasn't that she had *done* somethin' terrible to us, but that she was *supposed* to have done somethin' terrible." The Detective stared at the Comedian for a while, raised one eyebrow, and asked,

                "What do you mean?"

                "Well, are you familiar with the concept of time travel?"

                "Yes, that genre was first conceived by H.G. Wells and it's been really overdone lately, especially in all the movies and cartoons you see." Dale ignored that last comment, turned to the sky again, and explained,

                "Well, in a 'Star Trek, The Next Generation' episode, the *Enterprise* saw a ship that was tryin' to escape a wormhole. The moment it did, everythin' changed and they were suddenly in the middle of a war, because the ship was *supposed* to have been destroyed on the other side of the wormhole many years before them. The destruction of that ship brought about events that led to a long period of peace, but now, since it was never destroyed, the timeline of 'peace' was changed. The crew of the *Enterprise* didn't notice it because as far as they were concerned, the ship *vanished* but was never *destroyed* in the first place and they all lived as if it had never been destroyed. One crew member *did* notice somethin' was wrong because her species can somehow detect changes—'rifts', or 'tangents'—in the timelines but can't say exactly what the changes are or where they were. She even told the Chief Security Officer that they were never supposed to have met because in the original timeline the Security Officer died before the other one joined. Eventually, she convinced the captain to send the ship back to the wormhole, even though the crew of that ship would die, but then it didn't matter anyway because the moment the ship went through, everythin' changed back to the original peaceful timeline and they never remembered sendin' the ship back in the first place." Chip stared at Dale again, shivered briefly, and commented,

                "I can't believe I actually understood all that." Dale turned and smiled,

                "Ah, it seems that you know how to think fourth-dimensionally, Chip."

                "The term is 'tetra-dimensionally', or 'quadimensionally'. But what are you getting at? Are you saying that you can sense these—these 'tangents'—in the timeline as well?"

                "Well, if I can, then that's news for me, too, or at least when I get near that park." Chip looked at Dale,

                "What are you saying?"

                "I'm—what I'm gettin' at is that I think that somehow, in the past—I don't know when—there was a point when a tangent was created in our timeline, and the terrible things that were supposed to have happened to us in that park never did happen." Chip shook his head lightly,

                "Isn't that a good thing, if they were so terrible?"

                "I guess so, but as I kept thinkin' about it, I began to wonder if the other timeline was the alternate one and we're livin' the 'real' one, or if the other one was the real one and we're livin' in the alternate one, or even, if there have been other tangents before this one." Chip looked at his inquisitive friend, and asked while crossing his arms,

                "And how, pray tell, do you suppose these 'tangents' of yours happened without using any more science-fiction plot devices?" Dale looked up and pondered, and replied while looking at the stars,

                "I don't know, Chip. But you *will* admit we've encountered supernatural stuff, right? Winifred, the banshee, Leprechauns, that mummy, Sir Colby's Ghost, all that stuff?"

                "Yes?"

                "And you will admit that not even Gadget could explain away all those magical beings?" Chip sighed.

                "Yes."

                "Well, then you must admit that until you can prove otherwise, it's safe for me to say that maybe some of what we encountered before may have influenced our timeline." Chip sighed again,

                "Interesting theory. But until it's proven wrong or right, it will remain a theory." The Detective then looked up and also examined the constellations. After a while, he asked, "You know what, Dale?"

                "What?"

                "I think that Steven Spielberg, Robert Zemeckis, Gene Roddenberry, and George Lucas would have a field day with you."

                "Thanks, Chip, but Gene Roddenberry is dead."

                "Oh, sorry to hear that."

                "It's all right." Chip turned to him again,

                "Now, back to what we were talking about: I hope you left the park right away."

                "Oh, I did, I only stayed for about twenty minutes. But I tell you, I *swear* I've seen that owl lady and that park before. I continued the patrol until sunset, but I didn't see much happenin'."

                "Is that why you didn't come back until now?"

                "Well, like I said, I—I needed time alone."

                "Alone from us, and Foxy?" asked Chip, with his anger and fur rising and his ears lowering. Dale turned a bit to look at his face, his own features altering as well,

                "I don't expect you to understand." Chip was slightly more angered,

                "Oh? So what you're saying is that I have to wait until I marry Gadget, wait until Spring and *then* I'll understand why I need to get away from her and everyone?" Dale shivered a trifle and looked down again, but continued,

                "No. But even if somethin' like this *did* happen to you, you're so smart that you'd probably figure out the problem and solve it in one day. And with Gadget helpin' you, you'd probably solve it in less than an hour. That's why I don't expect you to understand what I'm goin' through." Chip couldn't counter that type of logic. More of his anger subsided, and it was replaced by pain for his best friend. Dale didn't have the same information he did, and he *knew* that given similar circumstances, Gadget and he would be able to figure out and solve the problem much quicker than Dale. His heart ached for the married couple.

                "Dale, that may be true, but if that's the case, don't you think that you'd solve this problem quicker if you had Foxy helping you? Or even if both of you sought out more information concerning this problem? Dale you two are a *married couple*. No one is going to make fun of you if you search for info that can very much rescue your marriage at this point, even if it *is* blunt and deals with intimate topics." Dale sighed,

                "Chip, it's—it's more than just getting' more info. Even *I* don't understand what's goin' on. But as I flew away from the park, I kept thinkin' on those tangents, and how they might have affected Foxy and me, and, that if those things *had* happened in that other timeline, then maybe Foxy and me wouldn't be havin' this problem." Chip shook his head and sighed,

                "Dale—since those things didn't happen, that's why *we're* here for you *now*, *and* your parents, *and* a marriage counsellor if you think you need one, to help you figure out what's going on and solve this problem that's hurting you two so much." He turned to look at the night sky through the bare branches for a moment, and asked, "Is she smothering you? Not letting you have your own space?" Dale replied, nearly ashamed,

                "No. I love her with all my heart. Her space is my space. Everythin's been incredible since the honeymoon. I'm—I'm sorry we woke you guys up so many times—we—um—couldn't help it," he blushed slightly.

                "We understand. I can't wait for it myself."

                "But—but—that's not all there is in a marriage! Why can't Foxy understand that?" Chip's face turned stern at this, as he looked at his best friend,

                "Dale, right now it's not a matter of what there is and what there isn't in a marriage. The issue here is that she has a big need right now and you're the only one who can help her!" The Comedian whirled to look at the Detective and chattered,

                "Hey, it's not my fault she didn't wanna take those tablets! I mean—I—" he quieted down and turned away once more. "I'm not—I'm not—just there—for *mating*, you know—I—I'm a lot more than that."

                "Dale, you two had other types of fun as well. But the problem is what you're *not* doing with her. That's really hurting her, you know." Dale looked at him again, stiffly,

                "What, you don't think I hurt as well?!" Even Dale's anger was fluctuating.

                "Then why are you doing this?" asked Chip, in frustration. Dale shook his head and looked down again,

                "I—I don't know." Chip rubbed his facial fur, trying to push down some of his frustration. His ears were still laid back.

                "That brings us to what everyone wants to know. Dale, what *is* your problem? We know it's not anything physical, and we know it's because you're scared of something. Dale, what are you scared of?" Dale just sighed and looked up to infinity. He had an answer, but he wasn't sure if it was the right one, or even if Chip was going to accept it. Chip pressed, "Look, Dale, you said you fell in love with her when you looked into her eyes. Why don't you try looking at them again?" Dale did a double take on him and shivered. He looked away and stuttered,

                "Um—I—I—already tr—tried that, Chip."

                "And?"

                "And—" suddenly the Comedian whirled, looked at the Detective in the eye and chattered, "ANDICAN'TLOOKINTOHEREYESANYMORE!!!!IDON'TKNOWWHYISITTHATEVERYTIMEILOOKINTOHEREYESIGETINCREDIBLYSCAREDALLRIGHT?" He huffed, crossed his arms, and turned away again. Chip sat back for a moment. At least they were getting somewhere.

                "This wouldn't have anything to do with Halloween, would it? Because if it does, then you have to remember that you *weren't* scared last year." Suddenly, Chip's reasoning clicked in again.

                "I wasn't *married* last October," replied, Dale, still huffing. Yup, that was what he deduced,

                "So this has to do with mating, then."

                "Very much so, yes," sighed the Comedian. Chip thought about how he should phrase the next question without prodding too much into Dale's intimate life. 

                "Dale—Dale, there's only so much I can help you with here. But—are you afraid of mating?" A moment passed. Then, a minute. Then three, until finally the Comedian nodded. Chip winced. "Okay. Dale, I know I'm your best friend, but I don't think I can ask you anything more without going deeper into your private moments. So, you have to go back inside and tell that to Foxy, and try to talk things out. It was very awful of you to run out on her just like that. You just have to look at her in the eye and tell her—"

                "I—CAN'T—LOOK—AT—HER—IN—THE—EYE—CHIP," he growled through clenched incisors while holding trembling fists up, looking away from Chip.

                "And why not? You just have to talk, not do anything else!" Dale opened his paws, held them up in exasperation, and said,

                "I just can't, all right? I don't know why—why—why—every time I look into her eyes I see this—this………" He trailed off. Chip leaned closer,

                "This what? Dale, we need to know." Dale said nothing. Instead, he stood up, padded past Chip, faced away from him again, and crossed his arms. Angered by his refusal, and by holding back what appeared to be the key answer, Chip stood and padded right behind him.

                "I can't believe that you're doing this to her," he growled.

                "Oh? And do you think I *enjoy* making her suffer?" countered Dale, not looking at him. Chip sighed,

                "Look, Dale, I'm not married, so I can't give you any on-paw advice, other than you two should go see a marriage counsellor immediately!!" Dale just kept his back to his best friend. Infuriating more, Chip continued, "You haven't even given her a logical reason as to why you deny her like that! You belong to her as much as she belongs to you!" Still Dale would not reply. Angered, Chip's fur bristled higher and he prepared his left fist for another bonk. Private or not, the only way the relationship could be rescued was if Dale told him what made him so scared; what he saw every time he looked into Foxglove's eyes. But before he did, he needed to make Dale *want* to confess it. So, Chip decided to throw the Trump Card, "Dale, if you keep this up, she'll have legal grounds for a divorce."

                "IKNOWTHAT!!" he chattered, bristling and stiffening his features while whirling to face him, flailing his paws about. "BUTYOUDIDN'TSEEWHATISAW!!!" He turned away again. Taken back for a moment, Chip calmed down, but kept his ears low. Slowly, he padded up to his best friend, and asked,

                "What *did* you see?" A long moment passed.

                "Something *horrible*…" was all Dale could reply.

                And he would say no more.

                With an exhausted sigh, Chip padded up to him, put his paw on his shoulder, and continued, "Dale, normally, I would bonk the tar out of you because of what you're doing. And I would do it, too, if you were doing this for no good reason. Then I'd let Monty and your dad get a piece of you as well. But the reason I'm not is because we all know that there is a reason for this, even though you won't tell us what it is. Dale, you and Foxy are in a situation I can only *dream* of with Gadget and me—this is one situation where I actually look UP to you! I know you and Foxy love each other very much; I can only hope Gadget can love me half as much as Foxy loves you. Just watching you two makes me envious of what you have—Dale—this is the one thing I never thought you'd beat me at—but you beat me at love. You're with the love of your life, and she can't get enough of you, no matter what season it is. Many males would *kill* to be in your situation, and not just out of instinct, either. You—you simply have *no idea* how good you have it, and now it's all crumbling down before everyone's eyes and you don't even realise that. Dale—I know that this deals with your intimate life, and you very probably feel very embarrassed to mention it to anyone and ask for info about it, especially to those who work with you and live with you, but I want you to know this: we're your friends. We're not going to look at you funny or anything, much less make fun of this—*deadly* serious matter as if we were in a college dorm. But please, talk to Foxy and get some help. If you want, we can set up an anonymous appointment with a doctor or counsellor so they won't know your identity. We'll do *anything* for you two—because we all love you, you know. And you can bet your life that I'm *not* going to stand still and watch my best friend's marriage collapse before my eyes. Not in a million years." Chip then padded past Dale, turned, and concluded, "We'll be waiting for you inside." And he padded back inside.

                Dale watched as his best friend clawed his way down the branch and into the tree again.

                This talk was exhausting.

                And in a mocking irony, he had a headache.

                Inside, Gadget, Foxglove, and Dalee were sitting on the bed. The chipmunk lady was still holding the bat lady to her shoulder, while the mousemaid gently held her left wing. And she was *still* crying, matting down her facial and neck fur. When she decided enough crying had been done, the tamias began,

                "Foxy, exactly when did this start?"

                "I'm—I'm not sure!" sobbed the pipistrell. "We were sleeping one night and Dale suddenly woke up screaming because he had a nightmare he suddenly forgot and he woke me up and I tried to get his mind off his fright by picking up where we left off earlier and he just—he just—started looking at me like I was scaring him or something! He hasn't touched me since!" Okay, that added a trifle to what they already knew. The elder rodent continued,

                "Foxy, was there—um—anything wrong before that?" The chiropterid sobbed for a moment before replying,

                "No. Everything was perfect before that. No matter how many times I needed him, he was always there. Sometimes I—I thought he wanted to more than I did!" The other females winced at that piece of information.

                "Umm—Foxy—did you do—or say—anything that you think might have frightened him?" The verspetilionid looked/echosounded into her mother-in-law's eyes, and squealed,

                "No! Nothing that I know of! We read encyclopædias so we both knew that I was going to get Fall Fever, and he couldn't wait! And he never complained, either! We've done all we can to please each other, we've talked about what we like and don't like—but ever since that night he just won't come near me!!" The murid pondered,

                "Well, Foxy, I know this is very embarrassing for Dale, but perhaps what's scaring him is the fact that it's October and there are all those Halloween motifs around and you *know* how humans make this association between your species and that celebration and perhaps it's got to Dale somehow? Maybe that nightmare had something to do with Halloween and it left him a lasting impression even though he forgot it?" Foxglove turned to look at her former roommate.

                "Maybe. But why doesn't he tell me that? Why does he have to deny me like that? Why can't he just say, 'Foxy, I'm sorry, but you're scaring the willies out of me and I don't want to get—" her sobbing increased, "—intimate—anymore with—you—even though you're———in an awful need———and———and————and I————I don't—————I don't————*love*————you————any—————————more—————'" The bat lady shook as she wept bitterly. She knew it was only a matter of time before Dale would admit that, and all she had hoped for, and lived for, would vanish like a dream. The rodents looked at each other. This wasn't going anywhere good.

                "Foxy, that's not true!" countered Dalee. "Dale may have a huge problem, but he still loves you! But he needs help to fix this problem! And he needs you to help him bring out the *true* problem. In all his e-mails, he always mentioned how much he loved you, and how he enjoyed being with you. He never told us otherwise. Foxy, don't give up on him, please." For a while, Foxglove continued sobbing between the two. Neither Dalee nor Gadget could say anything anymore. Neither of them could offer any more comfort other than what they were already giving. And this was making the Inventor slightly upset. The method she used in repairing things was to first find out what was wrong, find out why, when, and how it went wrong, then repair or replace the component(s), and make adjustments to make sure the problem did not repeat itself. But here, she knew when and what, but not why. And she couldn't find out why without prodding into someone's intimate life. And what frustrated her more was the fact that it involved two friends she cared greatly about, and she could do nothing more than just sit and watch it all collapse before her. But the bottom line was that Dale had the key to solving the problem, and only Dale could take the final step into solving it.

                For the first time since New Zealand, Gadget actually felt like bonking Dale.

                "Gadget?" The mousemaid was snapped out of her anger.

                "Oh, sorry. Yes, Foxy?"

                "C—can I stay in your room tonight? I—I don't think Dale will come back soon—and—I don't wanna be alone. And—I think—Dale needs his space. Whatever he needs, I will give it to him." The mus looked at the pipistrell, and she felt very much like a big sister who needed to protect her younger sibling.

                "Sure, Foxy. It's getting late anyways, so we'd better get ready now." The three females stood and padded out the door. In the hallway, Chip, Monterey, Zipper, and Pierre met them as they came out of the guest room.

                "Oh, good, you're done for tonight. The guest room is ready," said Chip.

                "Well, I don't suppose anyone's 'ungry," quipped Monterey.

                "Nope," replied Pierre. "This whole mess has got everyone very shook up. Maybe we'll feel like having a big breakfast in the morning."

                "Oh, and Foxy's rooming up with me, just for tonight," added the mousemaid. At that, Chip smiled at his love.

                "Thanks, Gadget. That's very nice of you." Then he turned to Foxglove, "Are you going to be okay tonight?"

                "[sniff]—Sure, Chip. I don't wanna be alone, but it's just for tonight. I don't wanna intrude anymore than what you all already had to. And—I know Dale needs his space."

                "Aw, Foxy," said Zipper, flying over and patting her shoulder. "It's okay!"

                "No, it's not."

                Everyone turned.

                The Comedian was standing at the entrance of the hallway. His ears were alert and his demeanour was quite resolute.

                Ears and tails stiffened, and backs bristled.

                Pierre bared his incisors, stomped over to his son, and growled, "DaleSegolehOakmontjustwhatthe####doyouthinkyou'redoing?!" Everyone winced at the insult. "What'sthiswe'rehearingaboutyoubeingscaredofyourwife?IsthishowIraised—!!"

                "DAD," he interrupted. Pierre stood back, remembering that his son was no longer a child, or even a teenager. "I came back—for my wife. It's *not* okay with me for her to stay with Gadget. She'll be stayin' with me tonight. We have—to talk." He looked over his father's shoulders and asked, "Does anyone here have a problem with that?" Pierre turned around. Ears and tails relaxed, but stayed low, and the bristling fur lowered just a trifle. Dale padded past everyone and went straight up to Foxglove. He still couldn't look at her in the eye.

                "We—we need—to talk. Please." Foxglove painfully turned away from him, and then padded back into their room.

                Dale turned for a moment to look back at the others, who looked back at him with various expressions of shock, worry, surprise, and anger. Then he turned again, entered his room, and locked the door behind him.

                The others wondered.

                Was this a good thing?


	13. Elf

ELF  -  MEET THE REAL MONSTER

                Foxglove thought about sitting on the bed, but then she doubted anything romantic would happen tonight, so she sat on a chair instead. Dale, however, remained standing. For a long while, neither said anything. Dale, with low ears and tail, was pacing the floor, trying to find out a way to start this conversation, and Foxglove was just waiting for him to end the relationship right here, right now. Finally, the chipmunk decided that this was a good place to start as any. He stood behind his wife and began,

                "F-Foxy? I—I just want to—to apologise for everythin' I've done—er—*haven't* done to you—um—*with* you. But please understand that—that—that I love you, and I—never wanted to hurt you. You mean everythin' to me—and—and—I'd never do anythin' to hurt you—well—not deliberately. I'm not sure what's happenin' to me—but—but—please understand that—I *really* do want to—but—but—I don't know why I can't." For her part, the bat lady said nothing, at first. So Dale continued, "I can't begin to imagine how terrible this must be for you, bein' in the middle of your Fall Fever and everythin', and havin' your mate right here and he—and he—just—*can't*—"

                He *can't*?

                "Dale, do—do you need to see a doctor?" she asked full of concern, turning around. Her mate turned away from her and replied,

                "N-no, no, I don't." The verspetilionid insisted,

                "Dale, I know this is very embarrassing for you, but please, if you need a doctor—" He turned and interrupted,

                "Foxy, believe me, I don't need one. There have been times that—that—I nearly—grabbed you and—and—"

                "YES?" she squealed suddenly with her hopes and ears up, swishing her tail, holding her wings, and standing to face him. But then, just as suddenly as she perked up, she drooped, turned away again, and continued, "Um, and—and—and then what? Why couldn't you, Dale?" The sciurid turned away again and trembled in frustration as he tried to explain,

                "And then—when I look at you—somethin'—somethin' happens to me—that just—just—scares me to death." Padding behind her husband, she asked him.

                "Dale, how is it that I scare you? What is it that I did or said that has you so scared? You know that I'd never hurt you, either!" And once again, the rodent had no answer to that question. The chiropterid insisted, "Cutie, please, did I hurt you at any moment? I know it was the night when you had that nightmare. I can't remember much of what I said that night, but I'm sure you can." The sciurid just looked up for a moment, and whispered,

                "No, Foxy. You didn't say or do anythin' wrong. That night was just a bit exhaustin', but the way you talked with that beautiful and seductive voice of yours, I would have continued as long as you needed to, if it wasn't—wasn't—" He stopped again. Was that *really* the cause of everything?

                "If it wasn't for *what*, Dale? What is it that you see in me that has you so frightened? Is it my teeth or wings?" He still wouldn't turn to face her.

                "No, Foxy, they're perfectly fine. Your teeth and wings are perfect, just—perfect. You're beautiful, Foxy. You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. And the fact that you're mine is—mind-bogglin'. I mean, I doubt anyone else has fur as soft and silky as yours, or a sweeter voice, or more incredible eyes, or is more lovin' and carin' and passionate as you are—you probably would have married me the night we met." The way he was talking was beginning to trigger her Fever again. He would have to stop before she lost control. "You—you have this incredible gift, Foxy—you saw past the goofy—plain exterior I have and discovered many great things that even *I* didn't know were there. You've given so much to me and to everyone—you have helped us in so many ways—" He stopped to sigh for a moment. "You're so beautiful, Foxy, our nights together have been so—incredible—you're better than any dream me or any other male could have." He turned slightly to look at her and continued, "You're everythin' to me, Foxy. But now every time I try to find that again I just see this—this—" 

                He looked away in silence again.

                But Foxglove knew what the last word was.

                It was the one word she dreaded.

                "Vampire? Cutie, you *know* I'm not a vampire bat!" The tamias didn't reply.

                But then, it suddenly hit her.

                The *nightmare*.

                And given what Dale had already put in his head before, there was no other choice to what he saw.

                "Dale, do—do you see a monster when you see me?" The tamias would *still* say nothing. But that had to be the right answer. The pipistrell turned away slightly and pressed on, "Dale, I love that you think I'm perfect, but I know I'm not. *You're* perfect. I just don't know why you can't see yourself as perfect; maybe you'd know if you could see and hear yourself as I do. Your sonar profile is the most amazing sound I've ever heard. Your heartbeat is in such a rhythm—I can't even begin to describe it. Songwriters would kill just to hear that beat. Your voice resonates in your throat and chest like the ultimate speaker. And the way your teeth vibrate whenever you talk, breathe, walk—Dale, I wonder why no bat hasn't fallen in love with you before. And your BODY—" She had trouble stopping herself, because if she began to describe in detail the way his body echoed, she would certainly lose control. "You're so—fun—and funny—you find humour in moments no one else would ever think of—you lighten everyone's day, no matter how gloomy it is. You're so smart and you've learned so many things, Dale, *you've* helped so many, despite what you think of yourself, you do everything you can to be the best Rescue Ranger. You've risked your life for me and others time and time again. *I've* never met anyone as loving and caring and passionate as *you*. Dale—you're so HANDSOME—I just can't get enough of you—and—sometimes I've thought you couldn't get enough of me, despite my Fever—but—maybe that nightmare you had—made you—made you see the light—and showed you just how imperfect I am." She sighed and turned her back to him. "I understand, Dale. I've never thought highly of myself, and I suppose it's fair that you didn't, either." The sciurid whirled and exclaimed,

                "Foxy, no—!"

                "Really, Dale!" she insisted. "I—I guess I knew that this—this dream couldn't last forever. I knew that there would be a time when we both would wake up and face the facts. I know you still love me and you meant all those things you said about me, but I know that's all gone now. I'm—I'm sorry I kept pressuring you." Dale had enough. He padded to her and held her shoulders,

                "Foxy, stop it! You're talkin' nonsense! The problem's with ME, not YOU! You—you were in that nightmare I had—but that's not what frightened me. The monster I saw—scared me so much—I—I don't know how to get rid of it! I don't know why that fear is pushin' me away from you!" The bat lady sighed. At least they got closer to the problem.

                "It—it's all right then, Dale. We'll continue tomorrow, and soon, we'll get to the bottom of this." She padded away from his hold and turned to look/echosound at him. "I'll—I'll get more suppressant pills in the morning. Dalee threw the ones you bought down the toilet. And Dale, I'll take the perch tonight. You rest well. I won't—I won't do anything that will cause you fright anymore." With that, she flew up to the perch and hung upside-down from it. The chipmunk wanted to continue; he wanted to figure out why that monster was keeping him away from marital bliss, but he was exhausted.

                "Good night, Cutie. Sleep well." She hadn't given up, she had just made a strategic pause, or so she hoped. Relieved, yet disappointed, that this battle was over, for now, Dale removed his shirt, much to Foxglove's delight, and put on his long nightshirt, much to Foxglove's depression. He padded to the wall and turned off the light, and then climbed into bed.

                Alone.

                "Good night, Foxy. I love you."

                "I love you, Dale." But even with this part of the battle done, she knew.

                She knew that the dream was over forever.

                She wrapped her wings around herself.

                Exhaustion brought merciful unconsciousness to them in less than three minutes.

                Fly.

                Fly faster.

                *Much* faster.

                But no matter how fast Foxglove flew, that Batmunk was keeping up with them, *and* catching up as well. Even with her training, and with the gusty tail wind she had, she could not fly faster than 80 miles per hour. True, she was carrying her husband with her foot-paws, but this was faster than anytime she had flown before. And the Batmunk showed no signs of strain.

                "**DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY……!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**"

                Ears and tails stiffened again.

                "Why does this—this THING keep thinkin' I'm its daddy?!" yelled Dale, glancing back at it.

                "Maybe Nimnul got a hold of it and told it a bunch of lies?!" she yelled back at him.

                "Sure, but how do we tell IT that, and will he believe us?!" At that moment, Butterbear flew past them again,

                "This is all your fault!!" she repeated. Fur bristled all around again. Now Dale was getting angry,

                "WHY do you keep sayin' that?! We just barely got to this planet and we've never seen that *thing* before!! Did you ever stop to think that someone told it lies and it THINKS I'm its daddy?!"

                "Then why does it look so much like you two?!" asked the carnivore-lepidopter. The sciurid sighed in desperation.

                "I DON'T KNOW!! Maybe a mad scientist got a hold of our DNA and cloned up that monster? We had nothin' to do with it!" The Batmunk flew closer and closer.

                "Ha! If you hadn't been so stupid, there wouldn't BE any monster!" That was another curve ball, and a nasty one as well.

                "WHAT? Are you callin' me stupid? I don't even KNOW how Nimnul managed to get a hold of our DNA! He doesn't even KNOW Foxglove!" Butterbear ignored that and threw even more accusations,

                "Who needs a mad scientist when we have YOU around? Your stupidity and immaturity and clumsiness and clowning around made up that monster!!" Dale was getting REALLY angry now. And the Wuzzle had better be thankful that he couldn't reach her at this point.

                "You have no right to say that! And how can I be stupid and immature and make a monster like THAT???!!! I'm no mad scientist, dummy!"

                "And don't you DARE call him stupid or immature or anything else, lady!" added Foxglove, getting angry herself at the Wuzzle.

                "That thing is YOUR SON!" she growled. Son? That thing was a male? "He recognised your voices and scents!!" Odd, they couple hadn't thought of that. But there was one slight oversight,

                "Don't be stupid, you weirdo! Foxy's never been pregnant, and I'm making SURE she doesn't get pregnant!" For some reason, Butterbear ignored that piece of information again. She growled,

                "You're so stupid you don't even remember, do you? Well, I'm not surprised!"

                "LISTENYOUCAREBEARREJECT!!THATTHINGIS**NOT**OURSONFOXY'S**NEVER**BEENPREGNANTAND**NONE**OFWHAT'SHAPPENIN'ISOURFAUL—"

                WHAM!!!!

                The next thing the three knew is that they were on the ground, aching all over. Their pain was highlighted when the Batmunk landed and made the ground shake. Then, he bent down, and picked up Dale one more time. He ignored his screams and struggles, and just repeated,

                "**DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY……!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**"

                Swallowing hard, Dale began to plead with this thing, "Listen, I don't know what Nimnul may have told you, but *I'm* not your daddy! I could never *be* your daddy! Nimnul lied to you! *HE'S* your enemy, not us!! *HE'S* the one who made you this way! It's HIS fault!! You've got to believe us! Let us find the other Rangers and we'll prove just what a lowlife Nimnul—"

                "**DADDY…………………WHY………DID………YOU…MAKE…ME…THIS…WAY?????!!!!!**"

                More than frightened, Dale was now getting exasperated.

                "No, no! Please, I'm not your daddy! And even if I was, I'd never make you the monster you are! This is the work of Norton Nimnul! If anything, *HE'S* your father!! He used our DNA to make you!! He's—"

                "**DADDY…………………WHY………DID………YOU…__RAISE__…ME…THIS…WAY?????!!!!!**"

                Time stopped.

                Suddenly, Dale recognised the Batmunk's scent.

                It was a combination of Foxglove's and his own.

                And his voice, though it was very distorted, had a particular ring that was only present in *his* voice.

                "R-raise you?" he asked, raising his ears a trifle.

                "YEAH!" roared Butterbear, flying by again. "You raised him this way! Your stupidity, clumsiness, immaturity, and clowning made this monster!!"

                It was here that suddenly everything made sense. Despite never having *been* with the Batmunk before, Dale suddenly had flashbacks of himself actually *raising* this hybrid, and raising it with FEAR.

                Fear of making mistakes in its upbringing, and making the mistake of lax discipline.

                Fear of doing something wrong and causing damage, physical and emotional, and making the mistake of making "innocent" jokes at his son's expense, in front of his peers and adults as well.

                Fear that his immaturity would cause problems with his son, and making the mistake of demanding neatness from him, while his own room remained a shambles.

                Fear, not of conceiving, not of bringing forth, but of *raising* a MONSTER, and making that exact same mistake.

                Fear of being a Father, and a bad one, at that, and making the mistake of *being* one.

                *"The thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me."*

                Because every time he did something wrong, the hybrid became more and more monstrous, until it flew away, and returned to rampage through this land.

                Despite how crazy everything was, it all fit together.

                This monster *was indeed* his son.

                And Foxglove's.

                Dale, being a male, however, still wanted to impose logic in all of this. He lowered his ears again,

                "But—but I didn't! We just got married five months ago! You couldn't have been born and grown up so fast so quickly, not without *us* knowin' it!! It's impossible!! It's—it's—"

                "**IT'S………ALL………YOUR………FAULT………DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**"

                And with that, the Batmunk raised his wing-paw, and smashed Dale into the ground once more, this time right on top of Foxglove.

                And Dale didn't stop screaming until Foxglove swooped down on him and stood him up on the floor.

                "DALE!!!" she squealed.

                Darkness.

                Quiet.

                Calm.

                Still.

                Silence.

                With some moonlight to help him, the chipmunk looked around and smelled around as best as he could. Slowly, he realised he was back in his room, next to his bed, with his wife holding him close. That nightmare was really getting annoying now, but he was here, he was safe, safe from the monster, safe from—

                His wife?

                Suddenly, he looked up and looked straight into his wife's eyes—

                This time, he didn't pull away. But he *did* see a monster.

                *In the reflection of her eyes.*

                Hesitating for a moment, he pulled her close, and hugged her tight.

                "F-Foxy—I'm—I'm sorry—so sorry—"

                There was no weeping this time. The bat lady had already done that for both of them, and now she could only comfort him this way. After a while, she looked/echosounded into his eyes and asked,

                "Wanna talk about it?" Dale sighed. Holding her wing, he led her to the bed, and they both sat down.

                "Foxy, three weeks ago, I had a nightmare. We were in this really strange planet…" He explained the experience, the strange animals he saw, and of course, the Batmunk, and how he plagued his nights regularly after that. And he told her about tonight's nightmare. "…and he smashed me right on top of you. That's when I woke up—and woke you up. Sorry."

                "Don't be. We haven't talked this deeply in quite a while." She sighed a bit, and looked/echosounded at him. "What was his name, anyway?" Her mate cocked his head for a while, and then a confused expression crept on his face, after which he slapped his forehead and slowly wiped his face down with his paw.

                "Darn, I forgot to ask." She felt a trifle disappointed at this, but there were more pressing matters at paw.

                "So, a nameless monster is what's been keeping you away from me? You're scared of getting me pregnant?" He tilted his head,

                "Well—kinda—" The pipistrell put a wing on his shoulder,

                "But Dale, I know it's a long shot, but I would be in *Heaven* if you got me pregnant! Carrying your cub—*our* cub, Cutie! It would be just wonderful! And there's no way it could turn out like that monster you saw!" The tamias just looked in front of him,

                "I—I know. I went to a geneticist—right after I went to see Dr. Qandlier when I made myself sick. At first I thought that I was afraid of us creatin' a monster, or at least a cub that would be terribly malformed and full of defects because of our two species. The doctor told me that the possibilities for that were very low, and that at most we would have either a bat or a chipmunk, but not both combined like what I saw. I guess I was afraid of havin' someone go through a very painful time, and it would all have been my fault."

                "*Our* fault, Cutie," she corrected, raising her ears and patting his paw. "You can't have a cub all by yourself you know———unless you're a sponge." The rodent looked at his mate for a moment, raised his eyebrow a trifle, and then he actually chuckled,

                "Hey, who says *I'm* the only one who can find humour in gloomy times?"

                "I learned from the best," she cooed, smiling. He smiled a trifle himself and held her closer, letting her nuzzle his cheek.

                "Aw, thanks, Darlin'. But really, even after the doctor explained to me everythin', I *still* couldn't get over this fear I had. Every time I looked at you, I saw that monster's face. It was as if someone made sculptures of our heads and combined them in an awful way. When I woke up just now and looked into your eyes, I saw—I saw the monster—in—in *my* face." The chiropterid suddenly straightened in quiet shock.

                "No, Dale, no! You're not a monster!! That dream never happened for real! It could never happen! You just have to convince yourself it was only a dream and put it behind you! Don't let it control you!" He held her wings in his paws and looked at her eyes again,

                "Foxy—I—I know that! But—tonight's dream—it—it—made me realise—what I was *really* afraid of. Not just makin' a *biological* monster, but—but—makin' a—a bad son—or daughter."

                "What?" The bat lady was in ultimate shock now, as her ears showed. But finally, Dale lowered his ears and head, and confessed,

                "Foxy—I found out that I'm—I'm afraid—of bein' a bad father. That strange bear told me that because I was so stupid and immature, the monster was all my fault. And even the monster blamed me for raisin' him all wrong. And I guess—I guess—it *could* happen! I mean—" he looked at her eyes again, "it's a miracle we got married in the first place! Before I met you, I was immature and careless and clumsy and stupid! I don't know how much of that I've put away since we got married, but when I really think about it, I—could make decisions—that could really mess up our cub!" His turned away slightly as his eyes began to water.

                "Dale—"

                "All this time, Chip and the others have put up with me. I've made some wrong decisions before, and they still pounce on me, but even when I try to be careful, sometimes I mess up really, *really* bad! All of you have been incredibly patient with me, but I guess that's because the damage I do can be repaired, eventually, or the bad guy that gets away can eventually be caught later—but this—this is a *life* we're talkin' about!" He turned to her, "This isn't somethin' that can be fixed with spare parts, or replaced with an updated version! This is about feelin's that can be destroyed for good, with no chance of repair, or in the best of cases, dealt with therapy, but *only* after a lot of pain! *That's* what I'm afraid of! Not of matin', not of pregnancy, not of making a hybrid, but—but raisin' a cub all wrong—because of my clumsiness!" There was no sniffling, but his tears, as well as hers, fell freely.

                This was heavy. Foxglove could certainly understand where he was coming from.

                "Cutie, you've made mistakes before, but you've learned from them. You've come a long way. I understand your fear now, but you seem to forget one thing." He looked at her and raised his ears slightly,

                "What?"

                "Dale, you're not going to be raising our cub alone, all by yourself. *I'm* going to be right next to you, making sure we *both* do it right! And do you think *I'm* not the least bit afraid of having and raising a cub? Dale, *you're* not the only one whose never done it before! In fact, *your parents* had no experience either, but they had you anyways, and just look at the GREAT job they did!" Dale smiled again. She loved the way his smile sounded. "And even if we mess up, if we make sure our cub is always loved, whatever mistakes we make, they will be covered and corrected. And if we can't solve a particular problem, we have your parents, Chip's parents, and lots of experts who wrote books on parenting. Dale," she held his handsome face with her wings, "you *won't* be alone with this. And—it's okay to be frightened, if it's just for a moment, but don't let fear rule your—*our* lives. I know we fear certain things by instinct, but sometimes, Dale, in cases like this, we just have to face our fears and take one giant leap forward." Her husband just lowered his head. The bat lady rubbed his shoulders for a moment, and finished, "I'm sorry I kept putting all that pressure on you, Sweetie. I—I'll try to keep things under control, if you still feel you need more time to get all this in. Rest well, Cutie," she kissed his cheek, and she felt relieved that this time he didn't flinch. "We'll continue this in the morning and explain it to the others. I'm sure your parents will be of great help in this. Good night." Foxglove helped him get back into bed, and straightened all the tangled covers. Once the chipmunk was settled in, she flew back up to her perch. Her desires were still there, but now *she* had the edge over them. Fever or no Fever, she would not do anything unless her husband was perfectly comfortable, and if she had to take those suppressants, she would take them, for his sake.

                But would she be able to hold out for tonight?


	14. Zwölf

ZWÖLF  -  FACE YOUR FEARS, OR FACE THE END

                Dale landed HARD. So hard, he made a chipmunk-shaped hole in the ground. That wasn't too annoying in itself, but what was really annoying was the fact that his wife was under him. Both of them waited a moment for the pain to subside, and groggily, they stood up and climbed out of the hole. Foxglove was able to stretch her wings, with just a slight amount of pain, but a Batmunk-generated wind gust nearly blew her down. Her husband caught her in time, though. Butterbear and the rest of the Wuzzles padded next to them, and they all turned to look/echosound at the Batmunk flying toward another town. All ears and tails were low and stiff, and all still had their fur bristling.

                "How could you do this?" asked Bumblelion, in shock. Dale's anger was once again triggered by this accusation. He turned, grabbed Bumblelion's chest fur and hide, pulled him close, and chattered,

                "Listen you hybrid! Maybe that thing's my son, and maybe I made mistakes raisin' him, but if *he's* wreckin' *your* planet, why don't YOU get YOUR army and weapons and STOP HIM??!!"

                "Because he's *your* son!" bellowed Rhinokey, behind him.

                "Oh sure," mocked Foxglove, crossing her wings in front of her, and looking/echosounding at him in contempt. "As if we have missiles and laser cannons and everything." Mooseal said,

                "But that's just our problem! This has been a very peaceful planet, and we don't have any huge weapons to fight him with! And as his parents, you're the only ones who can do something about him!" Upon hearing this, the chipmunk calmed down a trifle and released Bumblelion, who patted his chest fur down.

                "But what CAN we do?" he chattered, waving his paws. "We can't exactly bend him over our knees, you know! Can't you get huge doses of anæsthetic gas and try to knock him out with it?"

                "And *then* what?" asked Eleroo. "Eventually, he'll wake up again! We can't destroy him, and we can't send him to any other place because he will fly right back here!" Their argument was interrupted by the sounds of buildings collapsing and creatures screaming in terror. The Batmunk had arrived in the next city. They all whirled toward it, mouths open, frozen with shock.

                "Please, help us!" pleaded Hoppo, clasping her paws in front of her. The couple turned to her, incredulous.

                "But what can we do? We're so small, and he's so big!!" replied the bat lady. Then, both of them felt a soft paw on their shoulders. They both turned, and looked/echosounded at Butterbear, who suddenly had the most stone-faced, business-like expression they had ever seen.

                "Do what you have to do."

                The couple looked/echosounded at each other again. They both knew what any self-respecting parents would do with a wayward child, but would it work in their case?

                "Fly us to him, Foxy!" Dale suddenly chattered. "We have to try *somethin'*!"

                "But what?"

                "I'll tell you when we get there! Come on!!" With a quick sigh, the pipistrell took to the air, grabbed her husband's shoulders, and flew toward their wayward offspring. The distance didn't seem that large, for some reason, and soon they were hovering next to its head. That was quite a feat for Foxglove, since the tamias-pipistrell was moving randomly, currently smashing down a structure that appeared to be a stadium, stirring up a very large dust cloud, and yet blowing it away from himself with all the movement from his wing-paws.

                "Hey, son, could you stop a minute? We need to talk to you!" yelled the tamias. The Batmunk, holding one balled wing-paw up, glanced/echosounded at them, and replied,

                "**I……DON'T……WANT……TO…… TALK……TO……YOU!!!!**" And he continued smashing his wing-paws on the stadium. The sciurid insisted,

                "Son, please!! You're hurtin' a lot of people!! Why are you doin' this??!!" The sciurid-verspetilionid turned and shriek-chattered,

                "**BECAUSE……I……AM……ANGRY!!!!**" He said that so loud that he nearly blew his parents away. The verspetilionid managed to ride out the wind gust, and resumed her position beside her son's head.

                "Angry at what??!!" asked the chipmunk. The Batmunk was now stomping all over the stadium, reducing it to rubble. "ANGRY AT WHAT???!!!" yelled the rodent. Suddenly the rodent-chiropterid stopped stomping, turned to them, and yelled back,

                "**ANGRY……AT……__YOU__!!!!!!!**" The chiropterid was able to dodge the wind gust, so they remained next to the monster. At this point, Dale's mind was a total blank. If their son was angry with them, then he should at least remember what it was that he did to his son to make him so angry. The problem was that he had no specific memory of that The Batmunk moved off the stadium ruins and looked/echosounded for other structures to demolish. The bat lady followed him, and pleaded,

                "Son, please, stop this!! You have every right to be angry at us, but you can't go around destroying cities becau—"

                "**SHUT……UP……LADY!!!!**" The roar blew them away again, momentarily.

                At this point, something within Dale snapped.

                Actually, something within Dale exploded.

                And it exploded with such a tremendous force, that it blew away the Goof-up, the Klutz, the Clown, the Comedian, and all the other facets of his personality.

                They gave way to a new facet, one that had never been present before, one that should have been born the moment his son was born, or even conceived.

                This spoiled brat would now have to deal with the PARENT.

                The FATHER.

                The *DADDY*.

                And giant monster or not, NO ONE talked back to Foxglove like that. No son of his would ever talk back to his mother and get away with it!

                "Take us to his lower back!" he growled; his ears and tail as stiff as steel, and his back fur bristling. The pipistrell, however, was still stunned by the outburst. "Foxy, fly us near the lower back NOW!!" The tamias' sudden command was enough to snap his mate back to reality. They had some trouble manœuvring around the actual tail as it waved randomly about like a whip, slicing through buildings. So many had been wrecked now that even with the monster waving his wing-paws around, the dust around them was getting extremely thick. For those with sonar abilities, it wasn't much of a problem, except it was getting increasingly difficult to breathe. Coughing for a moment, Dale looked down, and saw that he was above the appropriate spot. "Okay, now let me go!!"

                "What—COUGH!!"

                "You heard me—COUGH!!—let me go!!" Praying that he knew what he was doing, the verspetilionid released her mate. The sciurid landed on the Batmunk's right side, near the small of the back. He appeared to be small enough so that the Batmunk didn't feel him drop and hang on to him, much less feel him scamper further and further down, that is, until Dale reached a particularly sensitive area. The Batmunk looked behind him—

                "DON'TYOUDARETALKBACKTOYOURMOTHERLIKETHAT!!!" chattered the Father, and he slapped the Batmunk's gluteus maximus as hard as he could.

                Oddly enough, the Batmunk froze where he was. For a moment, anger and rage remained in his face, but it was slowly replaced by surprise—

                And regret?

                "NOWAPOLOGISETOYOURMOTHER!!!!" And he spanked him again. Strange expressions passed through the monster's face, as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling. He appeared to be trying to say something. Then, gravity appeared to be taking over his ears and tail. Another spank.

                "ISAIDAPOLOGISETOYOURMOTHERRIGHTNOWYOUNGMALE!!!"

                The creature began to stutter, and his eyes started to moisten. His ears and tail were now fully laid back, and his bristled back was smooth again.

                "**M……M……MOMMY???**" 

                His voice didn't sound so low anymore. And for some reason, he didn't seem so tall anymore, either. Furthermore, the dust cloud seemed to retreat from them, but it still covered the rest of the city. Dale didn't seem to notice that, or anyone else, for that matter. Foxglove hovered in front of his face. Her own face showed both anger and sadness.

                "What do you say?" asked the Mother.

                "*M……M……MOMMY…………I'M……I'M…………SORRY……*"

                "SORRYFORWHAT??!!" chattered the Father, spanking him again. He had to move up the back since his son was shrinking more and more.

                "*M……Mommy? I'm…………sorry I……talked back at you……*" The Mother now had to land, but she was still looking up at her son. The Father finally jumped off him, but he continued, 

                "NOWAPOLOGISETOME!!" The Batmunk turned and continued shrinking, and now he was crying openly,

                "D-Daddy? I'm—I'm sorry I yelled at you! I'm sorry I kept smashing you down!!"

                "WELLNOWYOU'LLGETWHAT'SCOMIN'TOYOUMISTEROAKMONT!!" The Father sat on a piece of rubble, pulled the Batmunk to him, bent him over his knee, and gave him five more blows to his gluteus maximus. The Batmunk was downright wailing.

                "Daddy! Daddy! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!!" The Father pulled him back to his foot-paws, looked at him in the eye, and continued,

                "You're grounded for a month, and no monster movies or cartoons for you durin' that time, is that clear??!!" The Batmunk was crying so hard he couldn't talk anymore, so he just nodded, accepting his punishment. His face was distorted as pain and regret and repentance made his lips sag, reminding Dale of when *he* was a cub and when *he* was taken to the bottom of the tree by either his father or mother for a few sessions of their own—

                And he hugged his son tightly, crying as well. Foxglove, weeping as well, wrapped her wings around them. After a long moment, Dale pulled his son back, and looked into his eyes again.

                "Your first spankin'?" The Batmunk was hiccupping so hard he still couldn't speak, so he just nodded again. Maybe if they had done this sooner there wouldn't be so much wreckage. "Mine, too, as a father, that is." The Father's back fur settled down, and his harsh voice was now replaced by a soft, slower one, "Look, son, buildin's are very expensive, and the Wuzzles here use them to work and live in, like our house! You wouldn't like it if someone came to the park and knocked down our tree just because he was angry?" The hybrid shook his head in regret. "Son, it's okay to feel angry, but it's *not* okay to destroy cities because of it. If you feel angry, tell us, and we'll see if we can deal with it, okay?" The Batmunk nodded. "Good. Now remember, we both love you, and want what's best for you. I'm not angry at *you*, I'm angry at what you did—and at what I *should* have done before to stop it. Now, what are you goin' to do the next time you get angry?"

                "I'm—I'm goin' to tell you so we can deal with it," sobbed his son.

                "And are you going to destroy cities?" asked the Mother, wiping away her son's tears, as well as her own.

                "N—no."

                "Not unless they're sandcastles you built yourself, is that clear?" The male cub smiled a trifle as he looked at his sire. Ears were raised again.

                "Y—yes—Father."

                There, it was official.

                Dale was a FATHER.

                "And are you goin' to talk back at your Mother again?"

                "No," he sobbed, shaking his head again. His hiccupping was subsiding.

                "And are you goin' to smash me into the ground again?" asked the Father, with a hint of annoyance. The Batmunk shuddered as he took a deep breath, looked/echosounded into his Father's eyes, and replied,

                "N-no." The chipmunk sighed.

                He had won.

                "Okay, we forgive you then. But this better not happen again, is that clear?" The Batmunk looked/echosounded at the ground.

                "Yes, Daddy." His voice was full of regret.

                "Well, come here then!" The Father picked up his son and gave him a big hug, which was once again joined by the Mother. Moments later, the other Wuzzles emerged from the dust cloud and ran/flew up to them.

                "Hey, you defeated him!" roar-buzzed Bumblelion.

                "No," corrected Dale, looking at him. "We *disciplined* him. We want to correct him, not break his spirit!" The bat lady turned to her son,

                "Now, dear, what do you say to all the nice Wuzzles whose cities you wrecked?" The hybrid turned to the Wuzzles, lowered his ears again, and whimpered,

                "I'm—I'm sorry I destroyed your cities. I won't do it again. Will you please forgive me?" With low, stiff ears and raised hackles, the Wuzzles looked at the Batmunk with the ultimate expressions of RAGE—

                "P-please don't be angry at me!!" he wailed, starting to cry all over again, and he tried to hide behind his Father.

                "Hey, we're just kidding!" chuckled Rhinokey, as everyone reset their features. "If you won't do it again, then of *course* we forgive you!!" The Wuzzles padded over and expressed their forgiveness to the cub by patting his head and shaking his wing-paws, and by now all back fur, ears, and tails were relaxed. The Batmunk soon dried his tears and was smiling again at all the love he was receiving, and *had* received, even if it was tough love. The Wuzzles introduced themselves to him, and when that was done, Dale put him down. In his "normal" size, the Batmunk was no higher than Dale's waist was.

                "Well, son, we'd better see about gettin' home." The three held paws/wings together, turned, and were about to leave, but Bumblelion said,

                "Hey, wait! Didn't you say you were here on vacation?" The family turned to them, and Dale replied,

                "Well, we *were*, but with everythin' that happened here, I guess it's best if we leave."

                "No, wait," said Butterbear, padding up to them. "We know you two wanted time for yourselves, so, as our thanks for helping us bring your son under control, we'll baby-sit him for you while you enjoy yourselves!" The couple looked/echosounded into each other's eyes, about to ask each other about this.

                And it seemed as if Fall Fever fell on *both* of them.

                HARD.

                "Okaynoproblemwithus!" chattered Dale, suddenly starting to get fidgety, and trying very hard to calm himself. "You take good care of him, and we'll call you when we're ready to leave."

                "Oh, boy! Now I've got new friends!!" exclaimed the Batmunk, hovering slightly. "Hey, Dad, does this mean I'm not grounded anymore?"

                "NO," he said firmly, lowering his ears and staring into his son's eyes, which made him and his features land suddenly. "Your punishment starts the moment we get home, is that clear?" Downcast, the hybrid replied,

                "Yes, Daddy." Not wishing to see him leave like that, Dale raised his ears again and added,

                "But you can have all the fun your new friends let you, as long as you don't wreck anymore cities, okay?" The hybrid's features perked up again.

                "Oh! Okay! Thanks, Daddy!" He ran over and hugged his father as tightly as he could, and then turned and did the same to his mother. "Thanks, Mommy!" The he ran back to the Wuzzles and said, "Come on guys, let's have some fun!" He looked at his parents and said, "Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad! Have fun! See you later!"

                "See you later, Sweetie! Have fun!" replied the Mother. With that, their son and the Wuzzles padded back into the dust cloud, and as they did, the disembodied voice spoke again, but this time, the couple didn't seem to mind,

                "Well, it looks like the Wuzzles made new friends today, and they all learned something about discipline. And so ends another day in the land of Wuz…" The voice was replaced by what sounded like the song they first heard, except that it was only an instrumental, like what would be played during the end credits in a cartoon. What was more, both of them *thought* they saw some credits flash on the dust cloud in front of them, but they were too blurry to see/hear clearly. The song faded away just as the others were out of sight and sound. The bat lady put one wing around her husband, and said,

                "What a great father you are, Cutie. I *knew* you had it in you." The chipmunk looked down a trifle,

                "Yeah, but *I* didn't know that until a few moments ago."

                "Aw, Cutie," she took him into her wings. "You learned from the best, and any more problems that we may have, we'll solve them together, and if we need help, we have many friends willing to help us." Dale looked up and sighed with relief.

                He had shown his son love, and though he and Foxglove would make mistakes, there was plenty of love to cover those mistakes.

                His son, and whatever other cubs they might have, would turn out okay, if not better, than himself.

                He finally knew he had what it took to be a Father.

                His fear was gone.

                His phobia had vanished.

                He turned and looked into her eyes.

                She looked/echosounded into his eyes.

                Ears were raised and tails swished.

                Fall Fever was definitely working overtime now.

                They saw/heard their souls within each other.

                They remembered that they were now part of each other, body, mind, and spirit.

                They saw/heard passion.

                They saw/heard love.

                They saw/heard peace.

                They saw/heard joy.

                They saw/heard kindness.

                They saw/heard tenderness.

                They saw/heard laughter.

                They saw/heard humour.

                They saw/heard strength.

                They saw/heard expectancy.

                And with all traces of fear of the future now gone, they saw/heard extreme eagerness as well.

                Instantly, they were next to the small lake again.

                Foxglove took his paw and kissed his thumb digit.

                Dale took her wing and kissed her thumbclaw as well.

                They pressed their muzzles together and kissed deeply.

                Fall Fever couldn't have landed on them in a better time or place.

                This was the perfect time.

                This was the perfect place.

                It was time for *MORE*—

                Suddenly, Dale awakened and sat up in his bed, with his ears perked up. It only took him a moment to realise he was back in his own room, and once that reckoning was finished, he immediately realised that something within him had changed.

                He wasn't afraid anymore! 

                He had to tell his mate the great news and *finally* get some action going, so he turned and—

                Foxglove wasn't next to him. He looked up, but she wasn't above him, either. Glancing all over the room, he saw that she had left, for some reason. 

                *Oh, no you don't. You said you needed me, and I need _you_ now, baby!* In a flash, he jumped off the bed…

                The chiropterid was at the front door and reached to grab the knob—

                "*Where* do you think *you're* goin'?" asked the rodent, suddenly grabbing her wing. Foxglove gasped as she turned to him. She was so caught up in her own worries and trying to push down her desires that she didn't hear Dale pad up to her. But what was even *more* surprising was the look on her mate's face. She was about to lower her ears because he seemed angry, but then she noticed it was a playful kind of angry, as his smile showed. At that moment, she caught a glimpse of a spark in his eyes, a spark that she hadn't seen since the night he had his first nightmare. Suddenly she began feeling nervous herself, perhaps just as nervous as he had been before when she was coming on to him, so her ears *did* lower.

                "Uh, Cutie, I was getting a bit restless so I decided to go to the pharmacy to get some more suppressants. We agreed to that. Then I was going to do some hunting as well—" GAZING sinisterly into her eyes, he replied,

                "Oh, no, you're not." He bent down, grabbed his wife by the waist, and lifted her over his left shoulder. The pipistrell nearly squealed in surprise, but as the tamias carried her down the hall, she raised her ears again and began giggling, partly because of his impulsiveness, and partly because her tail was way up in the air, well, higher than her head normally was.

                "Cutie?" she giggled. "What are you doing? What's going on?"

                "I'll explain in the mornin'. Right now we have more important things to do—and to catch up on!!" Still keeping his angry face, the rodent stomped back to the bedroom, carried her inside, and threw the chiropterid on the bed, where she landed flat on her back, spreading her wings as she bounced a trifle. She giggled and smiled seductively at him as she looked/echosounded at him. This was certainly a nice surprise. The sciurid then turned around, closed the door, and locked it.

                "You're not leavin' this room until I say you can!" he growled, turning back to gaze sinisterly at her. For a moment, the verspetilionid became scared, not at his growling, but at what lay ahead. Thinking about it more carefully, however, caused her heart, emotions, hormones, and Fall Fever, to go into overdrive. Ears perked up and tails swished in expectancy.

                Dale pulled off his nightshirt.

                He wouldn't be needing it for a while now.

                A *long* while.

                "*……Luceeeeeeeeeelle……!!!*"

                And with a mighty roar, Dale Segoleh Oakmont took one giant leap forward.

                "*…oh, Foxy…*"

                The nightmare was over, but the night went on, and on, and on, partially thanks to the added endurance brought by the gym workouts…

                A *beautiful* night…


	15. Nachwort

NACHWORT  -  LET GO, LUKE

                Dale carried the suitcases to the hangar, where Foxglove, the other Rangers, and his parents, were preparing the Ranger Wing. He gave the suitcases to Chip, who hoisted them up on the plane. "Now just relax, and enjoy your time off," he said, smiling, and jumping off the aircraft.

                "Oh, we will," cooed the Bat Lady, with her ears perked up, and she was batting her eyelashes at her mate. She was in the co-pilot's seat, having just finished checking all the controls.

                "Sure!" added Dale, with a *lot* of eagerness in his voice, and his eyes, ears, and tail showed just what he was eager for. "We have three weeks to catch up on!" Pierre chuckled as he patted his son's shoulders,

                "Well, son, I'm relieved that you finally conquered your fears. We all know that there's no such thing as a perfect parent, but I can confidently say that we've taught you well." Dale held his father's paw, lowered his ears a trifle, and replied,

                "I know, Dad. And again, I'm—I'm sorry I made you and everyone else worry so much." Dalee padded in front of him and replied,

                "That's just something that comes automatically from being your friends and parents, Dale, even though there's only so much we can help you with. We worry because we love you. You just have to trust us a little bit more to talk about problems as deep as this one." He looked at his mother.

                "I will, Mom." And he hugged her. After a moment, he turned to Monterey. "Monty? I'm—really sorry I got you all worried for nothin'. I didn't mean for you to feel bad when I made myself sick when it had nothin' to do with the acorns you cooked, and you don't know how awful I feel now especially after what I did to the dinner you maaaaaaa—!!!!" A bear hug choked the chipmunk's apology.

                "I'm jus' glad yore okay, lad," said Monterey. "And I'm glad ye straight'n'd up before somethin' worse 'appened. No 'ard feelin's, Dale. Ye jus' go 'n take care o' yore wife, okay?" The mouse released Dale, and he gasped for air,

                "Thanks—Monty—and—[gasp!]—thanks again for the dinner!!" Then he turned to the others. "Guys, I'm sorry about the Jacuzzi. Whatever it takes to make up for the repairs and reinstallation—" Gadget turned him around and held his paws,

                "Dale, your marriage is more important than a Jacuzzi. If you're truly sorry and have explained everything, then that's good enough for us. When you two come back, just do your best duties as a Ranger, okay?" Both sets of ears perked up again.

                "Okay, Gadget. Thanks. But are you sure you guys will be all right?" 

                "Yes, we will, Dale. We have the hotel's number in case a super emergency comes along. In the meantime, just forget the world and have a great time." Dale looked into her beautiful blue eyes, and with great tenderness, replied,

                "We will, Gadget. Thanks for the Jacuzzi and everythin'." He gave her a quick hug, after which he climbed on the Wing, and the mousemaid went to open the hangar door. The door slowly gave way to the autumn sunrise, which filled the hangar with a beautiful red-orange light. A new day was beginning, and a new stage in the Oakmont's relationship was also beginning. However, before Dale turned on the motors, a visitor landed at the entrance.

                "Otis!" exclaimed Foxglove, nearly standing. "What brings you here?" The male bat padded inside as he choked down a yawn for a moment, and replied,

                "*Ummmmm*, well, I had an important message to relay to you from the Ultrasound Network late last night. I wanted all of you to hear it so I came last night hoping to find you awake, Mrs. Oakmont. I didn't hear you anywhere, so I figured you were asleep." The couple looked/echosounded at each other momentarily, and also blushed momentarily. Either they didn't make as much noise as they thought they did, or Otis was being discreet. "I decided to catch some shut-eye myself for a little bit and give you the message in the morning. The sound of the door woke me up." Chip and the others padded up to him,

                "What message? Is it about that owl lady?" he asked, with dread coming over him.

                "Yes." A worrisome look came on all of the Rangers, and Dale's parents.

                "Oh, no, don't tell me there was another victim!" pleaded Zipper. Otis waved his wings to calm them down,

                "Oh, it's nothing like that. It seems that the warning you sent to East Staten Island paid off. The animals that were keeping tabs on the owl lady informed the USN that every night, East Staten Island Park was like a ghost town. Not one lizard or even an insect was around. The owl lady extended her hunting area and schedule, but the lookouts and hear-outs were one flap ahead of her. Since there was no prey around, it sound—um—seems that the owl lady just picked up and left the park. Last night, she didn't fly her normal reconnaissance flight. She just took off and left the park for good—" At this point, all the Rangers cheered, and the couples hugged each other, while Monterey gave everyone nearby a bonsai-bear hug. After everyone calmed down, Otis continued, "She was last heard—um—seen heading east toward Pennsylvania. The relays will continue to track her position until she nests in either the forest or another town. Either way, now having entered into other owls' territories she'll most likely have *three* Councils hearing—um—watching her every move. If she values her life, she'll hear—um—watch her flaps from now on." When they heard that, Gadget hugged Chip, looked into his handsome dark brown eyes—

                And kissed him.

                Taking that as their cue, Foxglove kissed Dale. Tails were quivering again. 

                After a while, the mousemaid pulled away a trifle, and said, "Chip, you rescued her. You rescued that owl lady from herself."

                "We *all* did," he corrected, looking at her, then at all his other friends. "Us, the RAS, the USN, and everyone who listened to the warning. And not one life was needlessly lost." At this, Dale lowered his ears and looked down for a moment.

                "What is it, Cutie?" asked his wife, placing one wing on his shoulder. The chipmunk looked up, took a deep breath, and said,

                "Well, we really don't know that. That owl lady may be out of our fur for now, but, have we *really* rescued her from herself? Does she *really* value her life? And do you think the Strigiform Councils will be as merciful as us, knowing all she has done to them? And she's already beyond the point of no return—"

                "Dale," Chip said, lowering his own ears, padding up to the Ranger Wing and looking up at him, "At any moment that the owl lady is in the forest, she is at the mercy of predators herself. She has enough to worry about for herself than to continue in her twisted ways. If she's past the point of no return, that is by her choice. Whatever happens to her now, it's because she has sealed her own fate. But *you* did all you could, and you weren't pushed into making the Final Decision. You defeated her, Dale. *We* defeated her, without firing a shot. And whatever happens to her, we have our paws—and wings, clean," he added, looking at Foxglove and Zipper.

                Silence. 

                After a moment, the bat said, "Well, I guess I'll tell the USN to lift the curfew from East Staten Island—"

                "Wait," said Dale. Everyone looked/echosounded at him. 

                "What is it, son?" asked Pierre.

                "If the park is safe now, Chip, do you think we can go there and see if my theory is right?" Everyone looked/echosounded at Chip.

                Theory?

                All the trees and bushes were bare, and the grass was mostly brown. Though East Staten Island Park seemed to be dead, it was only sleeping. In a few days, mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, and insects would come back and give it a little burst of life before Old Man Winter settled in. And it was because the park was practically deserted, except for a human or two, that two small aircraft and two bats seemed rather conspicuous. The humans didn't notice, however.

                And the moment they entered the park, something overcame the Rescue Rangers, Otis, Pierre, and Dalee.

                A distinct feeling of *déjà-vue*.

                Like a dream they had, but forgot, and now the sights, sounds, and scents triggered memories, except that no one had dreamed anything before. But they all *knew*.

                And it was so intense that Foxglove's Fall Fever was momentarily suspended, aided by the fact that it was dealt with *quite* thoroughly the previous night. Ears and tails lowered and stiffened again. Dale, piloting the Ranger Wing, for some reason landed on a particular spot on the cement path. Behind them, Gadget landed the Ranger Plane. And even she, despite having no information, *knew* that this was *the* spot in which to land. As they all stepped off the aircraft, a cold breeze blew above them.

                Shudder.

                Dale padded up to one spot on the cement, near the edge where it gave way to the natural earth. He looked up, not to the sky, but to a point above him, right above the spot on the cement.

                Chip could stand it no longer. He padded up to his best friend, and said, "Something *did* happen here. Something *horrible*."

                "And it involved *all* of us," added the mousemaid. Otis couldn't understand what he was feeling,

                "Even—even *me*—but—but *how*? I've never been here before! None of us have!" Foxglove said nothing. Instead, she covered her ears with her wings and shook her head. She heard the breeze, but for some reason, ghostly echoes of thunder, rain, animal screams (in normal range and ultrasound), and the ever ghostly hooting of an insane owl lady were echoing in her head.

                And it had *nothing* to do with Halloween.

                "Somethin'—somethin' was *supposed* t' 'appen 'ere," stated Monterey, sombrely.

                "And it wasn't just us," added Zipper, just as sombrely. "But others. Others were also here. There were others involved." Even Pierre and Dalee felt it.

                "Dale, I don't know what's going on, and I doubt the others do, either," whispered Pierre. "But it's as if we *all* were here before, right after some sort of—of—disaster—"

                "Or attack," said Dalee. The Comedian just stood there, trying to figure out what had happened, and when.

                But he couldn't.

                And he would never know.

                No one would.

                Not even the owl lady.

                Finally, he turned and said, "Guys, I know this is really weird, but like I explained before, I think that sometime ago there must have been a tangent or rift in our timeline which stopped whatever was supposed to happen here." His wife continued,

                "And whatever it was, maybe it was so intense, that the other timeline is somehow—well—*spilling* feelings over on this one, even after it already happened, or *should* have happened?" Gadget normally would have found the entire concept of multiple timelines fascinating, but right now, she was feeling everything but. She continued,

                "Or, like Dale said, *this* is the alternate timeline, and we're getting the backwash of whatever happened in the *main* timeline? But what could have happened here that was so intense and it involved not just us, but other animals as well?"

                "Someone died." Everyone looked/echosounded at the Comedian, as he stepped off the cement and padded under a bush to retrieve something. "I know that owl lady has killed many in this park, but whatever happened had somethin' to do with someone gettin' killed——someone important——got killed in an awful way." He padded out of the bush, holding an owl feather. The Detective looked at him.

                "The owl lady? That owl lady was supposed to die here?" Dale examined the feather after he stepped back on the cement.

                "Maybe. Or maybe it was someone else. Someone very close to us—Chip, did you ever find out what that owl lady's name was?" 

                "Um, yes. I have it written down back at Headquarters. I think her name was Ira or Ima or Ilsa, but the RAS affirms that she changed it, out of her own whim, to—Strigiform, I think—no, Strigidæ, I believe. It wasn't an official name change; she just decided to call herself that because she thought she was the ultimate specimen of the Strigidæ Family, in blatant defiance, and mockery, to the Strigiform Councils. That's like you, me, or Tammy changing our name to 'Sciuridæ'." The Comedian looked up and thought for a moment.

                "Nope, those names don't ring a bell. I thought that by knowin' her name I would know more of what was supposed to happen here—of who was supposed to die."

                "But no one died," countered the Inventor. "Because whatever happened on the other timeline never happened here; the person that was 'supposed' to die *didn't* die. That person was—was--*rescued*! Isn't that a good thing? Isn't that what the Rescue Rangers are all about?" The Comedian turned toward the Inventor, and looked at her for a moment. For some reason, shadows of what could have been flashed in Gadget's head, but too quickly to coalesce into a clear memory, too quickly even for her brilliant mind.

                "Yes, Gadget," he replied. "You're right. Whatever was supposed to happen—*didn't* happen. A life was rescued. And that should be the end of it." Then, Dale put the feather on the cement, and without knowing why, he placed a pebble on it. There was no reason to do so, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Without thinking, the others piled up pebbles on top of it as well. Then they all stood back to look/echosound at the small monument they made. Whoever was supposed to die here in the other timeline, he, she, or it, would rest in peace—

                "Guys, look!" Everyone was startled at Foxglove's outburst that they nearly jumped. They turned to look/echosound what she was pointing at.

                Near the centre of the park, there was a foxglove vine.

                Padding over to it, the Acoustics Engineer was once again hit with ghosts of memories, or even, memories of ghosts. Or, more than memories, just scrambled images of what might have been, or of what *really* had been.

                "I remember falling off my mother into a foxglove vine. Do you think it could be this one?" The Detective answered,

                "It's not very likely, Foxy. Who knows how many foxglove vines there are—or were back then—not just in New York, but all of New England. And we don't know when this one was planted." The bat lady thought about that. There were too many strange feelings happening here, but without one shred of solid proof, she would have to stow the theory that the owl lady that was here may been the one that knocked her off her mother, killed her parents, and nearly killed *her*. Then again, it could have happened here, or elsewhere, and not just with an owl lady, but with a hawk, or even an eagle. No matter. In the spring, if she was pregnant or not, she would begin a specific search for her past.

                But not now.

                Not when she had more important things to do.

                The Adventurer spoke for her, "Well, lads, all I can say is that whate'r was supposed t' 'appen, didn't 'appen. This park is now safe thanks t' the work we all did. We should leave this place behind, 'n let whatever was supposed t' 'appen jus' stay 'n the past as well."

                "Monty's right," said Chip. "We can't change the past, and much less the past of another timeline. This park may and *could* have been the scenario of a disaster, but it was prevented, somehow. Let's stop searching for ghosts of the past and look to—" He paused for a moment when he raised his ears and looked at the eyes of the most beautiful mousemaid on the planet—

                "The future."

                "The future," repeated Foxglove, GAZING into her husband's eyes, also raising her ears.

                "The future," he replied, gazing back at her and raising his own ears, tenderly taking her wing and kissing her thumbclaw, and she returned the favour.

                "So what are we waiting for?" asked Pierre, raising his ears as well. "Son, those reservations aren't going to hold forever! You get your lady out of here and into that hotel!" Dalee added,

                "And Foxy, don't you dare let him out of the suite until you're all nice and caught up!" The younger couple blushed for a moment, especially the pipistrell, since it appeared that her Fall Fever had hit her full force again. They replied,

                "Uhhh—yes, Mommy. Yes, Daddy." The couple scampered back to the planes, but waited until everyone else was ready to go. As they padded back, Gadget pulled Chip aside a trifle and told him,

                "Chip, this is—a very frustrating moment for me. I'm—I'm about to leave a place that has so many unanswered questions—questions about timelines—and the worst part of it is that no one can even begin to find out what the answers are! It's bad enough not knowing an answer to a question that is thrown to you, but it's even worse when you know that no matter how much logic or reasoning or calculating you do—the answer will never come to you—!" The chipmunk placed one digit on her sweet lips, silencing her.

                "There are many cases and mysteries which made me feel the same way, Gadget. We can't know *everything*; we can't *always* get all the facts and all the answers. Even in mathematics and logic there are paradoxes and equations without solutions, and *you* *know* that, like dividing by zero, and negative square roots. In those cases, it's best to just let it go and move on. Maybe someday there will be an answer, perhaps after we're gone, or maybe there won't. But don't let it eat you, Gadget. Just do as Monty says. Something was supposed to happen here, but it didn't, because we stopped it. We saved many lives because of it. Now, please do us a favour, and don't look back. Look to the future." The mousemaid's lowered her ears and her lower lip trembled a trifle.

                "Paradoxes and equations without solutions are very hard for me to deal with, Chip, you know that. You have no idea what I went through when I first encountered division by zero, and negative square roots kept me up for over a week!" Both were the last to climb on the Ranger Plane. The tamias asked,

                "But you learned what you were supposed to do with them, right?" The mus nodded. "You learned to simply let them be, and move on. Do you think you can do the same with this place? Put it aside as something that's definitely in our heads, but not an actual reality: something that simply doesn't have a solution?" The female murid looked at the sky with great frustration. She even shivered a trifle, knowing that it would mean a definite defeat to her intellect. Her sciurid friend tenderly put his paw on her shoulder, and said, "Think of it as a safety precaution. You've seen some of Dale's movies, and you know all the disasters that happen whenever time travel is involved. Put this behind you and you'll prevent more disasters from happening that most probably *will* happen if you decide to continue investigating. Just let it go, please." The Inventor sighed, turned to him, and out of the love she had for him, replied,

                "I—I will—but *only* because *you're* asking me to. And maybe you're right, maybe none of this is worth the trouble to think about. I don't want to stay up all night again trying to figure it out like I did with negative square roots. But, what lies ahead of us, then?" The Detective thought for a moment, and whispered tenderly,

                "Well, Dale and Foxy will catch up on what they've lost, and we'll go on a date tonight—far away from this place. What do you say?" Gadget smiled at him as she activated the motors.

                "It's a start, Chip. I love you."

                "And I love you more than you could ever imagine, Gadget Hackwrench." Chip gently turned her head and kissed her softly on the lips, and GAZED into her eyes once more.

                Both aircraft and Otis took off and left East Staten Island Park, heading toward the rising sun. After a short while, one aircraft turned right, toward marital bliss, the other turned left, toward a growing relationship, and the bat turned downward, toward a bat roost to rest for the day.

                Fly, fly, fly, fly away; to restore that which was lost; toward a renewed relationship; toward a new understanding; toward a future that no matter how scary, it would be faced together, and no matter what obstacle, challenge, or danger it may bring, it would not be faced alone; toward the bringing of new life, and to its nurturing, to its loving, to its forming and raising and correcting when needed, with whatever help they might need to do so, fly, fly, fly away…

                "Dale, did you get his name this time?"

                "Oh, shoot!"

                Wings flapped…

THE END / DAS ENDE / DIE EINDE / EINDE / EL FIN / O FIN / LE FIN / IL FINE / SFIRSIT / KONIEC / KONEC / BEIGAS / LOPPU / TELOS / SOF / TAMAT / LIAU LIAU / DANEH O' / WAN-LE / OWARIMASU / SLUTT / SLUT / UXUL


	16. Credits

CREDITS

Chip and Dale were created by Jack Hannah, I think.

Gadget Hackwrench, Monterey Jack, Zipper, Norton Nimnul, Fat Cat, Mole, and Sergeant Spinelli were created by Tad Stones and Kevin Hopps, I think.

Foxglove, Bud, and Lou were created by Bruce Talkington, I think.

The Wuzzles and the Land of Wuz, were created by Ken Koonce and David Wiemers, I think.

Ditz and his friends were created by Mark Edens, I think.

Rat Capone was created by Michael P. Nelson and Burt Brown.

Sewernose de Berjerac "Sewer Al" was created by Dev Ross, I think.

All characters are © Disney (and used without permission, but it's doubtful that they mind) EXCEPT FOR:

Pierre and Dalee Oakmont, the Batmunk, Noel, The Boy With The Cold, The Boy With The Cold's Father, Dr. Qandlier, Dr. Mapache, the *Small Animal Medical Association Journal*, the USN, and Strigidæ/Ima, who are © The J.A.M.

Godzilla, who is © Toho. Used without permission.

The Rescue Aid Society, which is © Margery Sharp. Used without permission.

Otis and the *Fur and Feather Journal and Picayune*, who are © Roy Neal Grissom, who also conceived some of the theories concerning Foxglove's past. Used with permission.

"Star Trek: The Next Generation" and the U.S.S. Enterprise NC-1701-D, which are © Paramount Pictures. Used without permission.

The Care Bears, which are © Those Characters From Cleveland. Used without permission.

Dale's workout suit (and all original wardrobe) was designed by Ken Boyer and Kenny Thompkins, I think.

The Ranger Wing, the Ranger Plane, Gadget's tank, and the gym were designed by Rob Laduca and Terry Hudson, I think.

Original casting by Olivia Miner.

Additional casting by The J.A.M.

Chip Maplewood  
Dale Oakmont  
Gadget Hackwrench  
Monterey Jack Colby  
Zipper Lightringer  
Foxglove Oakmont

Bumblelion  
Butterbear  
Eleroo  
Hoppopotamus  
Rhinokey  
Mooseal  
The Disembodied Voice  
The Batmunk (giant)  
Noel  
The Ferret  
Sergeant Spinelli  
The Boy With The Cold  
The Boy With The Cold's Father  
Dr. Qandlier  
Dr. Mapache  
Otis  
Pierre Oakmont  
Dalee Oakmont

and

The Batmunk (cub) is  
is  
is also  
is  
is also  
is

is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is  
is also  
is also  
is

is  
Tress MacNeille  
Corey Burton  
Tress MacNeille  
Jim Cummings  
Corey Burton  
April Winchell

Brian Cummings  
Kathleen Helppie-Shipley  
Henry Gibson  
Jo Anne Worley  
Alan Oppenheimer  
Bill Scott  
Stan Freberg  
James Earl Jones  
Noel Blanc  
Joe Alaskey  
Jim Cummings  
Christine Cavanaugh  
Frank Welker  
Michael Fantini  
Lisa Lougheed  
Corey Burton  
Frank Welker  
B.J. Ward

Dick Beals

April Winchell appears by suggestion of the entire Rangerphile community.

Additional wardrobe designed by The J.A.M.

Props by Tinker-Toys.

Electronic communications by Mobileccess.

Hotel accommodations by Hyatt Regency New York Furry Division.

The name Maplewood was coined by Michael "Questy" Demcio.

The name Oakmont was coined by Michael "Questy" Demcio with collaboration from Jeff Pierce and Meghan Elizabeth Brunner.

The name "Colby" was coined by Art Cover, Lydia Marano, and Bryce Malek, I think, and it was suggested for Monterey's last name by Carlton "Wescott" Edward Baird II.

The Mohawk names: Segoleh (he who laughs) and Yegoleh (she who laughs) were coined by The J.A.M. with collaboration from Kevin "KS" Sharbaugh.

The events at the drive-in and the Laundromat were originally conceived and written by Bruce Talkington.

Foxglove's kidnapping, Chip's declaration of sacrifice, the theories of Foxglove's past, the armadillo thing, and her original hug with Chip were originally conceived and written by Roy Neal Grissom.

The "Wizard of Oz" quote was originally conceived and written by Frank Baum.

The moles' tampering with building foundations was originally conceived and written by Bruce Reid Schaefer, Ken Koonce, and David Wiemers.

Gadget's jackhammers were designed by The J.A.M.

Gadget's elevator, cell phone, and translator were designed by Roy Neal Grissom.

Gadget's wind tunnel was designed by The J.A.M.

The Oakmont's Jacuzzi was designed by The J.A.M.

"Theme of The Wuzzles" is © 1985 Disney Records. Written (and performed?) by Tom Case and Steve Rucker. Used without permission.

The "Star Trek: The Next Generation" episode Dale was referring to is "Yesterday's Enterprise" and it was written by Trent Christopher Ganino and Eric A. Stillwell, and it is © 1990 Paramount Pictures. Used without permission.

No copyright infringement is intended or implied. I did all this for the fun of it.

All of the characters, places, and events portrayed in this fanfic are fictitious. Any resemblance to any real persons, places, or events is unintentional and purely coincidental.

Dr. Mapache's trans-species pregnancy theories are fictitious, well, at least the paragraph where she talks about chromosome aberration. Mules (Equus caballus-asinus) are not always sterile, and cat-skunks (Felis-Memphitis catus-memphitis) *do* exist.

SPECIAL THANKS

To Wrigley's.

To Microsoft's Encyclopædia Encarta '99, for all the scientific classifications.

To Hershey's, for the chocolate syrup.

To Mobileccess, for the hand-held e-mail consoles.

To Six Flags Magic Mountain New York.

To Roy Neal Grissom (again), for sorta starting this whole thing off, with his fanfics: "Home Is Where You Hang Upside-Down", and "Consummation", of which I make numerous references here. I couldn't have done it without you.

To Karl Schenk, for taking his time in proofreading this story.

To Matt Plotecher and Christopher "Dale" Birkett, for the voice lists.

To Douglas Adams, for the cocktail party thing. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

To Kevin Mickel and the rest of the Tiny Toons Adventures Fan Fiction Mailing List, for their input concerning hybrids.

To Timothy Lynch, for his "Star Trek: The Next Generation" Episode Index, and Roger Noe and Michael Brown for the episode credits, for the info about "Yesterday's Enterprise".

To Chris Tremlett, for the Japanese way of saying "The End".

To Ragnar Fyri, for the Norwegian translation of the dedication at the end, and for the Norwegian way of saying "The End".

To CD, for the Dutch translation of the dedication at the end, and for the Dutch way of saying "The End".

To Karl-Johan "Creideiki" Karlsson, for the Swedish translation of the dedication at the end, and for the Swedish way of saying "The End".

To Ian Chai, for the Malay translation of the dedication at the end, and for the Malay, Hokkien, and Chinese ways of saying "The End".

To Aivars Liepa, for the Latvian and Russian translations of the dedication at the end.

To Kevin "KS" Sharbaugh and George D. Heron, former president of the Seneca Nation, for the Seneca translation of the dedication at the end, and for the Seneca way of saying "The End".

To The B.L.O.N.D.E., The J.S., and The D.S., for the Náhuatl (Aztec) translation of the dedication at the end.

To The V.B.C. and The D.D., pastor and Mayan teacher, for the Mayan translation of the dedication at the end.

To The F.I.F.I., for the Mayan way of saying "The End".

To Nolan Van Goff of the TTA List, for correcting the German translation of the dedication at the end.

To Leandro M. Pinto, also of the TTA List, for correcting the Portuguese translation of the dedication at the end.

To Niall MacConaill, for correcting the French translation of the dedication at the end.

TREMENDOUSLY SPECIAL THANKS

To Deborah Walley, for taking the time to breathe life into such a wonderful character. We'll miss you lots, and we'll see you Later.

To Roy Neal Grissom. I've said this before: You're an incredible writer as well. Thanks for the inspiration. Neither of these two follow-ups would have existed without you.

This time I was counting the chapters in German.

Bab ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK dibaktikan kepada semua orang-orang yang membahayakan diri sendiri untuk menyelamatkan orang-orang yang terperangkap dalam bangunan-bangunan yang runtuh, terutamanya yang diruntuhkan dalam gempa bumi. Khususnya, kepada semua orang-orang biasa yang membantui menyelamatkan seramai-ramainya selepas gempa bumi di Ciudad De Mexico pada bulan September 1985 (tiada syukur kepada kerajaan De La Madrid) dan ke pasukan-pasukan penyelamatan di World Trade Centre Menara Berdua-Dua di New York yang dijatuhkan pada bulan September 2001.

Часть ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK . Посвящается всем тем, кто изо дня в день рискуют жизнью, спасая других из руин. Особенно большое спасибо также всем тем добровольцам спасателям, которие приняли участие в спасении жертв землетрясения в Мехико в сентьябрье 1985 года (несмотря на бездействие правительства Дэ Ла Мадрид) а также тем кто спасал людей из руин Всемирного Центра Торговли в Ню-Йорке в сентябре 2001 года.

ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK nodaļa. Šī nodaļa ir veltīta tiem, kas dienu no dienas riskē ar savu dzīvību, glābjot citus no zemestrīces vai citu katastrofu sagrauto māju drupām. Jo īpaši es vēlētos pieminēt visus tos parastos cilvēkus, kas brīvprātīgi iesaistījās glābšanas darbos pēc zemestrīces Mehiko 1985. gada septembrī (laikā kad De La Madrid valdība klusēja), kā arī tos, kas piedalījās glābšanas darbos World Trade Centre Torņu Drupās Ņujorkā 2001. gada septembrī.

Deel ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK is gericht op alle mensen die hun leven waagden bij het redden van anderen in vernielde gebouwen, vooral door aarbevingen. Meer specifiek, alle burgers die samen werkten om zoveel mogelijk levens te redden (geen dank aan De La Madrid overheid) vlak na de aardbevingen in Mexico Stad in September 1985, en de reddingsteams van het in elkaar gestorte World Trade Centre Tweeling Torens in New York in September 2001.

Kapitlet ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK är tillägnat alla de som riskerar sina liv för att rädda människor i kollapsade byggnader, speciellt de som kollapsat i jordbävningar. Mer specifikt, till alla de civilister som hjälpte till att rädda så många de kunde (utan hjälp från De La Madrids regering) omedelbart efter jordbävningarna i Mexico City i september 1985 och till räddningslagen i World Trade Centers Tvillingtorn i New York i september 2001.

Kapitel ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK TDG:W er tilegnet alle som risikerer livet for å redde mennesker fra sammenraste bygninger, særlig bygninger ødelagt av jordskjelv. TDG:W er spesielt tilegnet alle sivilistene som arbeidet sammen for å redde flest mulig (utan hjälp från De La Madrids regering) etter jordskjelvene i Mexico City i september 1985, og til redningsmannskapene ved World Trade Centr e Tvillingtorn i New York i september 2001.

Kapitel ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK wird allen Leuten eingesetzt, um ihre Lebensdauern zu riskieren, um andereinnerhalb gebrochen hinunter die Gebäude, zu sichern besondersgebrochen hinunter eine durch Erdbeben. Ausdrücklich, zu allen Zivilisten, die zusammen verbanden, um ebensoviel zu retten, da sie (keine dank De La Madrid Regierung) sofort nach den Erdbeben in Mexikostadt im September von 1985 konnten und zu den Rettung Teams der eingestürzten World Trade Centre Zwillingtürme in New York im September von 2001.

Le chapitre ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK est dédié à tous ceux qui risquent leurs vies pour secourir les personnes emprisonnées dans des bâtiments sinistrés, surtout lors de tremblements de terre. En particulier, il est dédié aux civils qui ont uni leurs efforts pour secourir immédiatement autant de gens que possible (sans aucun appui du gouvernement De La Madrid) lors du tremblement de terre à Mexico en septembre 1985, et aux équipes de sauvetage lors de l'effondrement des Tours Jumelles du World Trade Centre à New York en septembre 2001.

Il capitolo ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK è dedicatto a tutte le persone che rischia il loro vive per soccorrere gli altri entro le costruzioni crollate, soprattutto quei crollato dai terremoti. Più specificatamente, a tutti i civili che ha unito per soccorrere a tanto quanto potrebbero (no grazie al governo di De La Madrid) immediatamente dopo i terremoti nella Città di Messico in settembre di 1985, ed alle squadre di soccorso delle crollate Torri Gemelle del World Trade Centre in New York in settembre di 2001.

O capítulo ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK é dedicado a todas as pessoas que arriscam suas vidas para salvarem outras pessoas dentro de edifícios destruídos, especialmente aqueles destruídos por terremotos. Mais especificamente, a todos os civis que uniram-se para salvar o maior número de pessoas possível (não graças ao governo de De La Madrid) imediatamente depois dos terremotos na Cidade de México em setembro de 1985, e às equipes de salvamento das destruídas Torres Gêmeas do World Trade Centre em New York em setembro de 2001.

Oiwa' ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK neh nëgëh otgah nesheh oh'töwedinauriok ne ogweh neh wöwegënowös ganok o'ganö sëk, neh jogees döh ga nyo' woäjödah. Neh jogees dö neh ohtadeye e nö' he nö kadeh (hë ëh në De La Madrid ganoh) woëjodä' neh Mexico City Gë:ökneh 1985 Koh neh oh tadeye nöh ganoh oh ganosëh neh World Trade Centre Twin Towers in New York Gë:ökneh 2001 .

In amoxxeloliztli ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK ytetzinco-ytauhqui cana ixquich tlacatl ca amechtñamana amonemiliztli cana maquixtia cana ceyehuan tlatic ompa tlacalollitlamayauhtlih, tlapanauia yehuatl tlamayahutlih ypampa tzitzilcaliztli. Occenca tlapanauia cana ixquich tlacatl cequintin tlacatl ca cetiliztlio cana maquixtia cana quezquitlacatl uelitliya (amo chipauaca cana in nequetzaliztli ompa De la Madrid) quin yniquaco ompa in tzitzicaliztli ompa Mexicaltepetl ompa septiembre 1985, yuan ca tlacatlmaquixtia ca Tlacalollicocouah ompa World Trade Centre ompa New York ompa septiembre 2001.

Le ts'íib je'ela' ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK ku ts'íibta'al u ti'a'alint tuláakal le máaxo'ob tu yóoltaj u tsáa tak u kuxtalo'ob u ti'a'al u lojik le máaxo'ob j-p'áato'ob ichi le x-juntulpak'o'ob, leti' le níikláajo'ob le ka tu líiljuba le lu'um ya'ab u téenal. Lela' ku jach tuch'ubtik tuláaka le éetbaatsilo'ob tu much'ajuba'o'ob u ti'a'al u lojik tuláakal máax ku páajtale' (ma' nibóol ti' lej chuun t'anil De La Madrid) tu séeblakil le ka' xu'ul u seen líilkuba le lu'eem tu noj Kaajil Mexico ti' u winalil Septiembre 1985, bey xan u ti'a'al tuláaka le máaxo'ob tu much'ajubao'ob le ka'jut-k'ajo'ob le ka'ap'éel Tíich' Pak'ilo'ob World Trade Centre en New York ti u winalil Septiembre 2001.

El capítulo ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK está dedicado a todas las personas que arriesgan sus vidas para rescatar a otros dentro de edificios derrumbados, especialmente aquellos derrumbados por terremotos. Más específicamente, a todos los civiles que se unieron para rescatar a cuantos podían (no gracias al gobierno de De La Madrid) inmediatamente después de los terremotos en la Ciudad de México en septiembre de 1985, y a los equipos de rescate de las derrumbadas Torres Gemelas del World Trade Centre en New York en septiembre del 2001.

Chapter ZWEI - THE DODGING GAME: WORK is dedicated to all the people who risk their lives to rescue others within collapsed buildings, especially those collapsed by earthquakes. More specifically, to all the civilians who joined together to rescue as many as they could (no thanks to the De La Madrid government) immediately after the earthquakes in Mexico City in September of 1985, and to the rescue teams of the collapsed World Trade Centre Twin Towers in New York in September of 2001.

Until next time, remember:

I AM THE J.A.M.

Good evening.

[WARP!]


End file.
